The Pulse Says It All
by SherlollyShock
Summary: Based around His Last Vow. Sherlock's gone AWOL from hospital after being shot. Molly's really worried and starts to realise how much she cares about him... and as Molly gets close to him in the hospital, Sherlock reveals that perhaps he cares more than he's letting on to. Complete story based around Sherlolly
1. Chapter 1

"Molly, it's John. You at home?"

"Hi John, Yes, I'm at home. All OK? You sound a little worried"

"It's Sherlock..."

"Oh God. What?"

"Well, the good news is we've tracked him down."

"And"

"The bad news is he's in a bad way"

"What do you mean 'a bad way', John?"

"Well, he's been working for the past 2 days and he's over done it. They've just rushed him into emergency surgery. Internal bleeding they think. His pulse is all over the place, and they've had to restart his heart twice on the way in the Ambulance. He's critical, Molly. They think he'll pull through but at the moment it's touch and go"

"Oh shit"

"I'm coming to get you, Molly. Stay where you are."

Molly's mobile phone hung up and she stood, staring at the screen. She couldn't quite comprehend what John had just told her. Sherlock critical - AGAIN. No, please God, no. Not again. How could he be so stupid. Why leave hospital far too early, only to make everything worse? This was the man who had lived through two years of being dead and now, twice in one week he's critically ill. Really ill. Near to dying kind of ill.

She closed her eyes in a silent prayer. Molly wasn't usually religious but just this once she raised her eyes and muttered "please let him be OK. Please"

Must be the case he's working on, she mused. She knew of old what Sherlock was like. Everything else, including personal welfare went out of the window when he was engrossed in a case. Only this time, it sounds like he'd taken his lack of self care to the extreme.

She ran into the bedroom, trying to get her brain to think of all the things she might need. But in the end all she could think of was her phone charger and a packet of biscuits. "Oh God" she said to herself over and over again.

Before she knew it, the door bell rang and there stood John. It wasn't the usual John. He looked stressed. Worried. Almost frightened. He didn't even greet her but just turned around to head to the car to drive back to the hospital. Molly pulled her front food shut, and climbed into the passenger seat beside John. She realised she'd never sat in the front of John's car before.

"Where's Mary, John?" Molly casually enquired. The Watsons had been at each other's side through Sherlock's illness and it seemed strange that Mary wasn't with John.

John didn't answer for a while. When he did, it was simply to say "Lets not worry about that for now. It's Sherlock that needs us most at the moment."

John's driving was, at best, erratic. Almost like there was something else on his mind. Molly came to the conclusion it must be Sherlock. After all, John and Sherlock were like one. A bit like John and Mary. Without each the other was not whole. And therefore it seemed totally logical that John would be worried out of his wits about Sherlock.

The journey from Molly's flat to the hospital was done in no time, as it was late and rush hour was long over and the two of them walked into the hospital in silence. When they arrived at reception, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were waiting there.

"Oh Shit" said Molly again. Everyone was there. Everyone knew how serious Sherlock's situation was, and the fact they were all there didn't bode well. Well, everyone except Mary. Molly assumed Mary was with Sherlock.

Silently they all headed for the lift up to see him. All lost in their thoughts. All brought together by one man. What was that man to them? Could they truly call him a friend? Would he call them a friend? Or was it something more than that. Respect? Trust? Love?

When they reached Sherlock he was in intensive care following surgery to stop the internal bleeding. There were monitors and wires everywhere. Molly panicked. Her world was not like this. Her world was full of silence. Mortuary's didn't have heart monitors, oxygen supplies, drips and wires. But she snapped herself back into reality.

"C'mon Molly" she thought "Be thankful he's not in your world of work. If he were you'd have lost him forever."

She walked over to him and looked at him. He looked exactly like Sherlock except for the ventilator, all the tubes and a massive bandage around his middle. No other visible signs of damage. John walked to the other side of Sherlock's bed while Mrs Hudson and Lestrade stood at the bottom of the bed. Still all lost in their own worlds of thought, looking at Sherlock. This man, the genius they knew, a mere shell of himself at present. Fighting internal damage that none of them could see. And they were all silently praying that he pulled through.

It felt like an age of just looking at him when Molly felt the urge to walk up to him and gently kiss him on the forehead. As she did so, the pulse monitor picked up a little.

"He knows you're here, Molly" said John.

Molly smiled back at him "I hope so" she said.

John Fetched a chair, walked it around to Molly's side of the bed and put it down.

"Sit down, Molly" he said. " think it'll do Sherlock the power of good for you to be with him for a while."

Molly didn't need to be asked twice. She sat down next to Sherlock and gently reached over and held his right hand. Again the pulse monitor picked up a little. She quietly began to talk to him. About nothing in particular. Anything that came into her head really. About her cat, Toby. About her day at work and how she could have really done with his help on something she couldn't get to the bottom of. How sore the needle in his neck looked. Anything at all she thought he might find vaguely interesting.

During all of this John nodded silently to Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, and the three of them quietly slipped away, leaving Molly and Sherlock together.

"He's in safe hands" said Mrs Hudson

"Do you think they'll ever..., you know" said Lestrade

"You know, I really don't know" said John. "If you'd asked me a few days back, I'd have said no, but after what we just saw... Well, you know, Sherlock always says that you can read someone's attraction to another person by the increase in their pulse. I think he might have just been caught out by his own deduction!"


	2. Chapter 2

When Molly awoke it was morning. At first she couldn't remember where she was and then she heard the bleeping. A bleeping which indicated a heart monitor, and it all came flooding back. Sherlock. Critical. Surgery. John.

As her eyes adjusted more to the light, she looked up to see Sherlock still unconscious. She'd spent the night asleep in the chair by his bed.

As Molly looked at Sherlock, she wondered. How did this brilliant man, the one who was always one step ahead of everyone else, manage to get himself shot in the first place?

She knew he was somewhere he shouldn't have been when it happened, but no-one would tell her where. So therefore he must have been on a case. She knew John found him and called the ambulance - again indicating he was on a case with John.

She knew he'd flat lined shortly after being shot. The doctors had worked on him for 25 minutes with no response so they had called it, but had somehow pulled himself back. How very Sherlock! That indicated very serious injury which was going to require quite some recovery time. And then why did he leave hospital 2 days ago, only 5 days after being shot, whilst still very sick and without being discharged? Why risk his health so freely? Why put his life in danger, only to end up even more sick than he was before.

Molly wracked her brains. And the more she thought, the more she concluded there was only one person he would risk everything for. John. This must all be to do with John. But John was there with her last night. There with Sherlock. But one person wasn't there last night. Mary. So this must be to do with Mary?

Molly was lost in her thoughts when she heard Sherlock stir. He didn't wake but was trying to turn himself over. The grunts he was giving indicated this must be causing him considerable pain. She gently tried to help him, but it was obvious the pain was just too much for him, so he settled back in exactly the same position as previously. Molly re-held his hand. The pulse monitor picked up slightly. Molly smiled and settled down to watch Sherlock sleeping.

The morning was broken by regular visits from various doctors, all of who asked Molly how he'd been during the night, whether he had awoken, had he tried to move. She felt like she was giving the same responses over and over.

"He's a lucky man having a girlfriend like you" said one doctor. Molly went to correct him but stopped herself. Why can't they think she's his girlfriend. It's not like she told them that herself, did she? It's a conclusion he'd jumped to, not her. She smiled.

It was around noon when John popped in to see how Sherlock was.

"Molly, you still here?" asked John.

"Yes, I wanted to be here when he woke up" she said "He's tried to move a couple of times too but it's obviously causing him too much pain. I wanted to help him move if he needs me."

"Look, I'm here now. Why don't you go and grab a shower and something to eat and come back when you're ready. I'll stay with him until you return" said John

"Thank you" said Molly, and she got up to go. "By the way, is everything OK with you and Mary? It's just thought I might have seen her here last night but she wasn't here and.."

"It's fine" John whispered. "Please don't ask any difficult questions at the moment. You'll get to know more when the time is right. But please, the only thing that is important at the moment is Sherlock gets well. We need him, Molly, more than you can ever imagine. I need him back by my side, helping me through."

Molly didn't respond. She just nodded, kissed John on the cheek and headed out of the door. She glanced back to see John sit down next to Sherlock and bury his head in his hands. At that moment, she made a silent vow to herself - to help Sherlock all she could and to be there for John. Whatever had happened was none of her business, but she could help out in some way. That's what friends are for after all.

Molly returned a couple of hours later, having showered, changed her clothes, eaten and feeling much better. John was sitting next to Sherlock, just staring into space.

"I bought you a coffee and a sandwich" she said as she handed over a bag from the local coffee shop. "I thought you'd probably be hungry"

"Thanks Molly" John started but he found it hard to get the words out

"I'm not going to ask" Molly replied. "It's none of my business. What matters is that you know I am here for you, Sherlock... and Mary. I'll do whatever it takes. I know you'd do the same for me"

John's head lowered onto his chest, and he simply nodded to her. Then opened the bag and tried to pretend to be interested in the sandwich she'd bought, but he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

It was one of those awkward moments. Through his tears, John obviously wanted to speak. To pour his heart out to her but he just couldn't. The pain inside was too great. Molly walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

After a couple of minutes John took a deep breath and Molly pulled away. They both settled back down into their chairs, next to Sherlock. John worked his way through his sandwich. He wasn't hungry but he hadn't eaten since last night and he knew he'd only make matters worse if he didn't eat.

It was half way through the second sandwich that Sherlock suddenly stirred. His eyes were slowly opening and he was waking. Molly went to the light switch and turned the lights down slightly, so it wasn't too bright for him.

Molly and John breathed a sigh of relief. Always good to see someone wake, albeit slowly, from such major surgery. John's doctor instincts kicked in, immediately going and checking him, then going and telling the hospital doctors he was awake. Molly stayed put, not wanting to leave him, but the doctors asked for some time with him to check him over and to see how he was doing.

John made his apologies at this point, saying he had to get back to Mary.

It was a good hour later that Molly returned to Sherlock's room, to find him sleeping again. It was getting late in the day and as she hadn't got much sleep the night before, she settled into the chair next to his bed to get some rest.

It must have been some time later when she awoke, to find Sherlock awake and looking at her.

"I've been watching you sleep" he said "You are interesting when you sleep"

Molly blushed

Molly didn't know how to answer "How are you feeling?" she asked him, changing the subject

"Ok, I think" he said "rather sore and I see they've limited by morphine intake."

Molly tilted her head to one side. And then let out a smile. Sherlock was on his way back. Same as always. It would take the body quite some time to recover, but his brain was as alert as ever.

Molly moved over to Sherlock and gently kissed his forehead before holding his hand again. The pulse monitor picked up slightly again.

"I've been so worried" she started. "John's been here with you most of the day too."

"How is John?" Sherlock asked

"Like something is troubling him" She replied "but I've told him its none of my business and we have decided for now that our whole focus is on getting you well. When the time is right or if I need to know, then I'll ask questions."

"Thank you, Molly" Sherlock answered "I knew I could rely on you. I do need your help with all of this, but not just yet. I'm too tired."

And he closed his eyes to sleep again. Molly smiled. Of course she'd help. That's what Molly Hooper is all about.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was slowly but surely recovering. A slow process from such massive internal injuries but day by day he was getting stronger

Molly found herself in a routine. She'd pop in to see Sherlock before work, sometimes again at lunch time and always after work. It had become as much a part of her daily routine as sleeping and eating. She'd even got to know the staff by their first names. It had been 2 weeks after all.

Sherlock's strength was returning but he had been told, in no uncertain terms by John, that full recovery before discharge from hospital this time was essential. His body just wouldn't stand another relapse

"You don't flat line twice in one week and recover from it quickly" John explained one evening when Sherlock insisted he was well enough to go home. "This is serious stuff, Sherlock. You were bloody lucky the first time around and even more so the second time. People don't pull back from flat lining the way you did - and twice at that. Please. I know we have stuff to sort, big shit, but I need you alive not dead. I need your mind palace in full working order if I'm even going to remotely get through this. Please Sherlock. I want - no I need you to sort this. I have to work through, with you and Mary, what the hell is going on. You can only do that once your recovery is complete. At present it's far from done. Your stats tell me that. Your pulse is still slightly erratic at times, temperature is higher than normal, blood pressure is up and you've not yet walked out of this room, let alone up two flights of stairs to get to the flat."

Sherlock wasn't one for being told what to do. Never had been. But this was John speaking. His pressure point. His one true friend. The person he had connected with. The person he would do anything for.

Uncharacteristically, Sherlock listened to John and agreed. And if he was totally honest with himself, he knew he needed time. He felt tired. Sherlock never felt tired. Even after 6 days straight on a case with no food and no sleep. The adrenaline kept him going until he was finished. But right now he felt tired. A deep, full bodied exhaustion that had drained him even of the capacity to go into his mind palace for more than 15 minutes at a time. For a man who rarely slept, 18 hours a day spent sleeping was nothing unusual at the moment.

Molly's day time visits became something to look forward to for Sherlock during those long hours. Not something he'd ever thought he'd admit to himself. He needed her more than she needed him. She and John had become his lifeline to the outside world. It was a strange situation for him.

"You have one hell of a girlfriend there" one of the doctors commented when Molly had left one evening "She never misses a day, does she. Here morning and evening and some times during the day too. That's love for you"

Sherlock had mused this over and over. What were he and Molly to each other? Friends? No, she was more than that. A meeting of minds? Certainly that, yes. She and he understood each other. She could not match him in intellect, but there was certainly a connection. Any thing more than that? He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he looked forward to her visits. If she was later than usual because she was working on something interesting, he'd lie waiting impatiently for her.

As time moved on, and Sherlock's strength began to return, he was able to spend more and more time awake and therefore more and more time in his mind palace. Days were now made up of Molly's visit in the morning, several hours spent in his mind palace, usually meaning he skipped lunch, and then Molly's visit in the evening. He always cleared his mind palace ready for her visit.

One evening, 3 weeks after Sherlock's second relapse, Molly came to visit as usual. Sherlock was upright in bed, feeling his energy return

"You're looking well this evening" Molly commented as she walked into the room, and sat by the bed. She held his hand as usual. The pulse monitors were now long gone, but she felt confident that, as he had done when at his very sickest, his pulse would have quickened up as she tightened her grip

"Molly, I need your help" he immediately replied. "I've spent the last 3 days re-visiting the case I was on before I was shot. I need to recommence serious work with immediate effect if I'm to sort this out as soon as possible."

Molly smiled and inwardly felt sad at the same time. She knew this day would come. The day when he was on the right side of his recovery. They day his strength was beginning to return with a vengeance. The day that Sherlock would truly start to come back. The day she had looked forward to for so long.

But at the same time, this was the day he would no longer be as dependant upon her. He had relied upon her for information about her experiments, what was happening in the morgue. Anything to keep his mind active and aware of what was happening in the outside world, outside the room which had been his cocoon for during his illness. The room that had protected him and enabled him to recover and regain himself again. This was the day he was able to muster the strength to think for himself, and therefore not to rely upon her twice or three time daily visits. Sure, John came by but he was so pre-occupied at present. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade were also regular visitors but they never stayed long. Molly had been his life blood these past 3 weeks and now he was starting to not need her. His body may still need further recovery time, but it was obvious his brain now didn't.

"Of course, what do you need" Molly replied, desperately trying to make sure that she hid any sadness from him

"My violin to start with" he replied "and I need you to ask one or two of my homeless network to come in and see me. They need to be my eyes and ears while I am here and I need to brief them fully. Get me Wiggy and ask him to hand pick one or two of the other lads for me. He'll know what I need."

"I'll get straight on to it" said Molly, turning away to leave

Sherlock grabbed her arm. He looked her straight in the eye

"Thank you, Molly" he said "I appreciate that I have not been the easiest patient over these past few weeks, or indeed the best friend over the past few years, but I do appreciate the attention you have shown me. I shall miss your visits when I am well enough to be home. I have grown to look forward to them."

Molly bent over to gently kiss his cheek. Sherlock turned his head at exactly the same time and their lips met. Neither of them made an effort to pull away and they remained like that for quite some time.

They were both disturbed by a slight cough at the door. It was Mrs Hudson.

"I'll pop by later" she said and hurried away

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other and smiled.

"I'll go and get what you need" said Molly. "See you in the morning"


	4. Chapter 4

Molly was taken up for the next couple of days with Sherlock's errands. It was surprising how much time talking to Sherlock's homeless network actually took. And when she visited the flat to collect some bits and his violin, Mrs Hudson had insisted she stayed for a cup of tea and a chat.

The inevitable question had come out from Mrs Hudson

"When I came to visit, you and Sherlock seemed very close. Are you together now?" Mrs Hudson had enquired.

Molly didn't really know how to answer. She didn't know herself. What she did know was that her and Sherlock had enjoyed a kiss, and that neither of them had pulled away from it. But were they in a relationship as a result of a single kiss? She highly doubted it. After all, they had kissed in her office right after he jumped off the roof 2 years ago, and he'd given her several pecks on the cheek. However, none of them was as long or meaningful as the one that had happened in the hospital 2 days ago.

"I very much doubt it" Molly had replied "You know Sherlock. I don't really see him as the relationship type, do you?"

Mrs Hudson smiled. "You know, I don't know now. I think he's changed. You don't go through a near death experience like that - twice - and come out of it the same person. I'm sure he'd like to try and kid himself that he is, but he can't be. You visit places in your mind you can never imagine when you're critically ill, and it does make you evaluate things.

"He says he's a sociopath. I just don't believe him you know. I think he likes to think of himself as a sociopath - but sociopaths don't have ANY friends at all. And Sherlock has John and you for starters. Mycroft I'd say is more of a sociopath than Sherlock. I think perhaps it's a little brother trying to be like a big brother? In reality I'd say Sherlock is just highly in control of his emotions and chooses to bury them. I wouldn't be surprised if we saw a big change in him from now on."

Molly smiled at Mrs Hudson and thought. She couldn't help feel that Mrs Hudson had a point

"He says he looks forwards to my visits" Molly responded "He lets me hold his hand. He never used to let me hold his hand. And when he was really sick, every time I went near, his pulse picked up a bit. John says Sherlock always says an elevated pulse is a sign of attraction to someone. And I saw it with my own eyes, Mrs Hudson."

Molly stopped herself from saying any more. She just looked into Mrs Hudson's eyes. And the smile she was greeted with from Mrs Hudson spoke volumes.

"We all saw it before you did, Molly" she said. "You just need to give him time. If this indeed how he feels he's not going to freely admit it. He is Sherlock after all. It's going to take time and patience. It all depends on how much you want it, Molly."

"Really badly. I want it really badly. I love him so much it actually hurts. I'd always known it deep down, but it was when we nearly lost him - twice - that I realised. I mean, I know people thought he was dead for 2 years but I knew the truth. I knew he was alive and out there working. So I didn't worry about him as I knew he'd come back when he was good and ready. This time it was different. He was on life support and critically ill and we really nearly did lose him. That's when I realised."

"Then you must help him to realise too" Mrs Hudson said, smiling at Molly as if she were her own.

It was with an excited heart that Molly climbed the stairs up to Sherlock's hospital room. When she arrived, she saw John with Sherlock. She was going to enter when she overheard what John was saying

"Mary and I aren't talking, Sherlock. I just can't pull myself to even sleep in the same bed as her at the moment. I can't believe she lied to me. I can't believe she shot you. How could she do this to us? Please help me. Please help us to get back on track."

Molly stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart pounding in her body. Mary shot Sherlock? Why? John and Mary weren't speaking? What? She lay back on the wall, feeling suddenly very faint and sick. She couldn't move. She was in a blind panic. Mary had shot Sherlock? What on earth was going on? Why was he protecting her when she'd made him so very ill and almost killed him?

She started to cry, the tears rolling down her face and the sobs taking over her whole body. The man she loved, shot by the wife of his best friend. Oh my god, things were a total mess.

Molly became aware of a sound next to her. She looked up. It was John. He'd obviously overheard her crying. He put his arm around her and walked her into the room. He put her in a chair next to Sherlock. Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand and sobbed in to it.

"What on earth is going on" she asked once she'd composed herself

"What did you hear" Sherlock asked?

"That Mary shot you, and that John and Mary aren't speaking. Is this true?"

John bowed his head. "I'm afraid so, Molly, but there is so much more to this than we can even begin to explain to you"

"I am not cross with Mary" Sherlock stated "If I had been in the situation she found herself in, I would have responded in exactly the same manner. She is not a bad person, Molly"

"But John said she lied to him" Molly shouted back, so angry that Sherlock could even consider forgiving someone who had injured him so very badly.

"Yes, she did. And for good reason and John knows the whole story. Let me start at the beginning and fill you in. But you must promised both John and I that once we have told you the whole situation, you will not breathe a word to anyone. I know I can totally trust you, Molly Hooper. You proved that to me 2 years ago, but this is so much more than that. This is the life of Mary and her unborn child. I am doing this for John."

Molly nodded and sat and listened while Sherlock and John recounted the whole story to her. She shook with shock at some points and cried with John at others. She couldn't quite comprehend what she was hearing.

"So now you know it all" said Sherlock when he had finished speaking. "You know why I must revisit this case as soon as I am physically capable. John tells me it will take me at least another month to regain my full physical strength but in the mean time, I have permission from my personal physician to resume mind work on this." He smiled at John.

Molly took a deep breath. She didn't know what to say, but now she knew the whole story it all began to make sense. She walked over to John and hugged him. Not a loving hug but the kind of hug you give a friend to show them they have your full and total support. That as a friend you will be there for them, and you will do all within your power to help them put things right.

"I'll be there for Mary too" said Molly, holding strong a voice that just wanted to crack and break.

John nodded through his tears. In some ways it was actually good to have it out in the open. For someone else to know too. Someone he knew he could trust and who he knew would help Sherlock to keep his thoughts on track.

"I have to go" said John, standing up suddenly. "Just need some fresh air." He walked to the door. He spoke as he turned to walk through "And I need my wife back"

Sherlock simply nodded to him as he left.

Molly stood in the centre of the room and stared at Sherlock. Had she really heard it all correctly? Was she going to wake up from some mad nightmare, in her own bed at home? Mary? An Agent? An Assassin? Someone on the run who had covered her tracks?

Sherlock held his hand out to her and patted the bed next to him. She duly obliged and snuggled in close to him, holding him as if her life depended upon it. She sobbed into his shoulder and he tightened his grip on her.

"Yes, it is true and no you're not going to wake up from a nightmare. It is indeed a nightmare of which we are both in the centre" Sherlock gently whispered to her, as if he could exactly read her thoughts. He held her closer.

"We will sort it, Molly. I promise. Mary and John will be fine. I just need time to sort it for them both" he went on. "That's why I need Wiggy and the homeless network. They can be doing the leg work that I just cannot at present"

"It's fine, I've sorted it" Said Molly. "Wiggy is going to come to see you late tonight. He said he'd been expecting you to contact him. I think he's been doing some research for you in the mean time"

"Good, I did set him some tasks. Good to know he's not been wasting his time"

Molly sat up and looked at Sherlock. She wanted to take him in. This man, a man who had been so severely hurt by a bullet, yet he could not be angry. He wanted to put things right and to make it all better. Mrs Hudson was right. He was a different man. He had come out of this changed, and so much for the better so it seemed.

"Enough about this though. Tell me what you're thinking" he enquired

"I had tea with Mrs Hudson earlier today" Molly responded, glad of the opportunity to change the subject. "She's been so worried about you. We're so relieved that you're so much better. I bet they'll let you home soon."

"In a day or so, apparently" He confirmed "I'll be so glad to get home. Hospitals and I just don't get on. Well, being a patient at any road. I don't mind the labs but it's not so interesting up here, I can tell you."

"That's brilliant news" said Molly hugging him tightly. "I'll make the arrangements at the flat for you".

Sherlock smiled.

"What are you smiling at" Molly asked?

"You're going to stick around then. I had been a little worried you'd might want a break from visiting once I was home."

"Of course I'll stick around" Molly said. She looked deeply into his eyes. Eyes that seemed so much softer and open than ever before. "I do need to ask you something though."

"Ask away"

"A couple of nights ago. That kiss. What did it mean? It keeps on going around and around in my head. It was so tender. I enjoyed it. I... I just need to understand."

Sherlock gently touched her lips with his finger. He pulled her close and their lips met. A kiss that was so loving, so deep, so erotic. His hands held Molly's face tight and she returned the feeling by cradling his head. Time did not seem to matter. They just had each other.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly spent the next day cleaning Sherlock's flat from top to bottom. She cleaned everything. Changed his bed. Did his washing. Made it really nice.

She knew he'd utterly hate the fact it was clean and shiny, but he had been away from it for well over a month and it was in a state. As well as being the usual mess, it was dusty. The amount of dust made her realise just how long he'd been in hospital for and just how ill he'd actually been. A stay of that length denoted a pretty serious set of circumstances.

Climbing the stairs to his hospital bed for the final time, Molly could see through is bedroom window that he was up and dressed. A strange sight as she'd got so used to seeing him in a hospital gown. He looked different.

"Ready to go?" she asked as she popped her head through is door

He responded simply with a nod. It was then she realised that apart from a few meals here and there, he'd not actually left the confines of the room for so long. She walked up to him and held his hand.

John appeared around the door too. "Car's ready when you are. I'll meet you outside"

Sherlock held Molly's hand as they walked out of his room. He thanked the doctors for all they had done and walked down the stairs. A tentative walk by a man starting to re-find his way into the world he'd been outside of for so long.

The car journey back to Baker Street took about 20 minutes in the traffic. John parked up just outside the flat and Sherlock climbed out onto Baker Street, breathing in the familiar air and surroundings. Mrs Hudson opened the door and welcomed him home.

The stair climb up to the flat took longer than usual, with Sherlock having to stop half way up for breath. "Damn my body" he thought to himself. His usually fit physique showing signs of weakness. This was going to be a much longer recovery than he had ever begun to imagine.

Once in his flat, he found his favourite chair, and sat down. Molly headed into the kitchen to make him a drink, and John brought his belongings in from out of the car.

It took no more than 5 minutes to make his drink but when Molly turned around she found him fast asleep in his chair.

"He's exhausted" said John. "It's going to be a long road if just walking from his bed to a car and from a car to his flat has totally worn him out."

"It's fine. I'll stay here with him and keep an eye on him." Molly replied. "Er, John, I know it's none of my business really, but how are things with Mary?"

"Er, OK-ish. We'll get there. It'll take time " John responded then suddenly changed the subject "I'm just so glad we've got him home and starting on the road to a full recovery. He'll soon pick up now he's back here. We just need to make sure he doesn't over do it. You know what he's like when he starts working. I'll pop back later to see how he is"

John kissed Molly on the cheek and headed out. Molly settled herself on the sofa with the cup of tea she'd made for him. There was no telly in Sherlock's flat so she couldn't watch anything. She looked through the newspapers on the desk. All dated 5 weeks earlier. She sighed and picked up her phone. Candy Crush. Nothing else to do.

A couple of hours later Sherlock awoke, suddenly conscious of the different surroundings. It took him a moment to get his bearings.

"Hello" said Molly, looking over to him from the sofa "How are you feeling?"

"Better"

"Good, but you still need to take it easy for the rest of the day" said Molly walking over to his chair "What do you fancy to eat? I was thinking of making it easy and going and getting some chips. Sound OK?"

"Sounds perfect. I'll come with you"

"Oh no you won't" Molly insisted "Just rest up today. Strict instructions from Dr Watson that you are to stay put today and rest. He's heading back later to check up on you. Don't want to make the Doctor all cross now, do we?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. With John and Molly nagging at him he'd not got much choice. He sighed and picked up a paper. 5 weeks old. Damn it.

Molly headed out to grab some chips and was soon back. Sherlock watched as she put the food out on plates and then wandered over to hand him his good. She started back to the sofa when she felt a hand gently grab her arm.

"This is lap food, yes?" he asked

"Yes" Said Molly smiling

"Then you should eat it on a lap. My lap in fact" he smiled, pulling her down to sit on his knee.

They both tucked into their food, Molly leaning her head against Sherlock's shoulder. It felt so right to be there.

When they had finished eating, Molly put both plates in the kitchen then returned back to Sherlock's knee. She snuggled in, her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so glad you're home" She said to him, gazing into those piercing eyes of his

"I'm glad to be home" He answered "There was a point I wasn't sure I'd make it back, but you made it all possible. Thank you Molly Hooper."

Their eyes locked onto each other, their heads moving closer together and they kissed. One of those long, loving kisses reserved only for two people who suddenly become aware of how much they care about each other.

The front door bell rang, but as usual, Sherlock had the ringer in the fridge. He and Molly didn't hear it.

Mrs Hudson opened it and let the visitors in.

"Come to check on how he is" John said

"They're upstairs" She whispered "But they're very quiet."

John smiled and Mrs Hudson followed him. As they climbed the stairs, they stayed as silent as possible. Their heads peered around the door, to see Molly and Sherlock sitting in his favourite chair, locked in an embrace, kissing each other deeply, firmly, fondly.

"I think he's doing just fine" John said to Mrs Hudson who just smiled back at him. "He's going to be just fine"


	6. Chapter 6

John and Mrs Hudson quietly headed back down stairs, and into her flat

"Cup of tea" she asked him?

"Got anything stronger?" John replied with a laugh "I think I need something to get over the shock"

Mrs Hudson smiled and filled the kettle with water

"I don't quite know what to make of it, you know" John said after a period of silence. "I mean, we all know how Molly feels about him. And I think I know how he feels about her. The pulse and all that, but even so, it seems so weird. He's Mr Ice. Devoid of all emotion. Mr Cool, the one who prefers logic and reason over feeling and then BAM. I just hope once he's fully recovered from this that he doesn't slip back into his old ways and to brush her aside like he always used to."

Mrs Hudson laughed "You know John, I had a very similar conversation with Molly, who was sat in the very chair you're sitting in. She knows what she's letting herself in for, John. She knows what he is like. She's prepared for the exact reaction you describe. But somehow I don't think it will come. As I said to Molly, Sherlock has to come out of this experience a different person. You don't die twice and not come out of it differently.

"He'll have visited places in his mind that he never knew existed. He'll have felt feelings he didn't know existed. His body has been broken and he's having to slowly piece it back together. He will need someone by his side as he does that. Someone he can share it with. Someone who will hold him when he hurts. Who will cry with him when his demons arise and who will laugh with him during the happy times. Even he can't bury his emotions fully when going through all of that. Somehow, John, much as you and he are friends, I'm not sure you're the person to help him do that."

John nodded "You know, I'd not thought of it like that. Yes, that isn't my job. It's not what I can cope with at the moment. Plus somehow I can't see myself holding Sherlock as he hurts. Friends we may be, but that is definitely over the line."

Mrs Hudson got two cups out of the cupboard and went to the fridge to fetch the milk. She stopped at the fridge door "Love is a strange thing, John. True love conquers all. It's an old saying but it's so very true. Molly's loved him for as long as I can remember, and you know he has loved her back. He's just been so stubborn that he wasn't willing to admit it. It's taken him nearly dying twice for them both to finally realise. It's still early days yet for them both. I'm sure it's gone no further than a hug and a kiss, and he's just not well enough to take it any further than that at present but I'm sure it won't be long before it's a fully fledged relationship. And then perhaps we'll start to get to know the real Sherlock and not the front he chooses to show us."

She carried on with what she was doing, and within a couple of minutes two hot cups of tea appeared on the table. She became conscious that John looked upset. His expression was one of pain and hurt and a single tear ran down his cheek.

"Mrs Hudson, do you really think love does conquer all?" John asked, looking straight at the table in front of him, his brow furrowed.

She reached over the table and held John's hand "I don't know what has gone on between you and Mary, John, but yes I do believe it does. You and Mary have something special. It's a love that will pull through".

The tears started to flow freely down John's face. He looked out of the window "I really hope so Mrs Hudson, I really do"


	7. Chapter 7

Time seemed to stand still. Sherlock and Molly had been in each others arms for longer than they could keep track. Kissing Molly seemed like the most natural thing in the world to Sherlock. Like it had always been. Like it was meant to be.

She lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. Eyes that glowed with a smile, but also looked utterly exhausted.

"C'mon" she said, gently rising from his lap "It's time you got some sleep. It won't do for you to over do it on your first day home."

Sherlock nodded but was reluctant to move. At first Molly thought it was because his stubborn streak was rising in him, but it became very apparent that actually he just didn't have the strength to get himself up, and he was also in pain.

Molly tried very gently to lift him but he was just too heavy for her on her own.

"Stay there, I'll go and get Mrs Hudson to help me"

Molly headed out of the door and down stairs to Mrs Hudsons flat. Sherlock silently cursed his ailing body. He just wanted to get his strength back but right now he didn't have an ounce of it left. Not even enough strength to get out of his chair and into his bed.

Molly knocked on Mrs Hudson's door, and was surprised to see John still there too.

"I'm really sorry to trouble you, it's just that I need to get Sherlock to bed..." She blushed when she realised how wrong that must have sounded. "No, not like that, I mean he's exhausted and wants to sleep but he hasn't got the energy to get himself out of his chair and he's in quite alot of pain. I've tried lifting him but he's just too heavy for me. Please can you help?"

John was on his feet before Molly had even finished the sentence and was half way up the stairs

Mrs Hudson turned to Molly and she just smiled. Molly smiled back. The silent message passed between them both that developments with Sherlock were good. That Molly and Sherlock together was good.

Molly and Mrs Hudson quickly followed John up the stairs to find John checking Sherlock out. His pulse, his breathing. Sherlock looked paler than when she'd left him only 2 or 3 minutes before.

"Lets get him into bed" said John "and then I think we'll just give him a little shot of morphine to take the edge off the pain so he can sleep."

Mrs Hudson nodded and headed into Sherlock's room to sort out his bed and pyjamas. She smiled when she saw how clean it all was and the fact Sherlock's bed had clean linen on it. Sherlock never changed his bed himself. It was only ever changed when Mrs Hudson changed it for him - which wasn't that often as he didn't sleep in it that often. So a clean bed could only mean one person - Molly. She quietly slipped out, leaving John and Molly to sort him out. They knew where she was if they needed her.

Molly and John gently lifted Sherlock, one under each arm, as Sherlock cried out in pain. His legs buckled underneath him as the pain took over his body. John took most of his body weight as they gently eased him into his bedroom. They gently changed him out of his day clothes into his pyjamas and laid him down on the bed. His eyes were closed and he was desperate for sleep but the pain was preventing it.

John ran out to the car to go and get his bag, while Molly sat on the bed next to him.

"I'm sorry" he said

"What are you sorry for?"

"For being so weak and broken". He closed his eyes again

Molly looked lovingly at him. This amazing man, usually so strong and in control, yet right now broken, weak and in pain. She leant over and kissed him on the forehead.

John was back in the room before Molly had realised it, and was quick to administer a small shot of morphine. "It's not alot but it's enough to take the edge off the pain and to let him sleep".

Molly stayed with Sherlock for a few minutes longer, to check on him. As his breathing became more steady and regular and as sleep overtook him, she quietly slipped back into the living room where John was sitting in his chair.

"I'll stay here tonight" said Molly. "I'll sleep on the sofa. I can keep an eye on him"

"I was thinking of staying myself too" John replied "Seeing him like this. I'm not sure I could face Mary tonight."

Molly put her hand on his shoulder and nodded.

"I tell you what, lets both stay tonight. I checked the bed was made up in your old room for you. I put clean sheets on it as I had a feeling you or I might want to stay over a few times with him while he recuperated. I know Mrs Hudson has a sleeping bag she can lend me and I'm small so the sofa will work well for me."

John laughed. A night of chatting to Molly, settled in his old flat, sharing a bottle of wine was actually just the therapy he needed at the moment.

"I'll pop down to the off license and get a bottle of wine" He said as he grabbed his coat "Red or white? Which do you prefer?"


	8. Chapter 8

Molly got two wine glasses out of the cupboard. She knew exactly where they were kept. Her clean and tidy of the flat wasn't just a dust. When she'd opened the cupboards she'd found all sort of interesting things growing in the cups and glasses. She'd smiled to herself. It was just like him to turn his own crockery into some form of experiment.

As she cleaned, she'd left some things be, knowing he was bound to be furious when he found out she'd destroyed all his experiments. She chose the most interesting ones to leave. In fact, she'd found herself wondering if he'd mind too much if she'd taken a look at some of the cultures herself.

So she made one cupboard up just for experiments leaving several mugs, cups, glasses and plates and their interesting contents for him to experiment on, and cleaned out all of the others. She replaced the key items they were missing such as tea bags (it really was too much that he was using the teabag caddy to grow different kinds of mould) and sugar and made the whole flat feel much more like some form of home rather than a make shift lab.

She left the glasses on the table and popped her head into Sherlock's room to check on him. He was fast asleep exactly in the position she'd left him in. She quietly closed the door and left him to it.

She then popped down to Mrs Hudson's flat "Please can I borrow your sleeping bag?"

Mrs Hudson was happy to oblige. "You will call me if you need anything won't you?"

"Thank you but I think we'll be fine. John's going to stay over too, in his old room, just to make sure that he's OK. If he needs any help in the night I just won't be strong enough to help him get up."

Mrs Hudson nodded. "I'll bring you all some breakfast up in the morning. I'll wait until I hear you all moving about and then I'll be up"

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, you're the best" said Molly and she planted a small kiss on her cheek.

John was quickly back with a bottle of red, a bottle of white and some snacks for them both and the settled down to chat. John turned his chair to face the sofa rather than Sherlock's chair and put a table in the middle so they could both put their drinks on it. John poured himself a glass of red and settled down.

Molly returned back from Sherlocks room "He's fine. I'll leave him be for a bit then check on him again" She poured herself a glass of white and stretched herself out on the sofa, her head at the window end.

John and Molly sat in silence for a while, drinking in the fact that finally Sherlock was home. His recovery was far enough along for him to be back in the place he felt most relaxed.

"You know, at one point I wasn't sure if this day would ever come" said John studying his drink carefully

"I was thinking just the same thing" Molly responded. "I was thinking about just how close we came to losing him. I still can't work out how on earth he pulled himself back from the first flat line, let alone the second. They'd worked on him for 25 minutes and called it. And his heart hadn't been beating for that whole time. Yet as they call it, it restarts itself. How on earth?"

"I actually don't want to think about it. You knew he was alive when he fell off the roof. I didn't. The thought of having to go through all those emotions again is just too much. What I do know is every time we think we know him, he does something incredible which shows that we really don't!"

"You know, John, I did know about him being alive when he fell off the roof, and I saw him once or twice before he headed out of the country but once he'd gone, I didn't see him for 2 years either. Not a sound from him. Not a word to tell me he was still alive. I'm not sure if that's worse than thinking he was dead, you know."

John took a deep breath, a quick drink of his wine and then just came out with it. "Molly, I've been meaning to ask you if you'll tell me more about what happened. How did he do it? What did he do afterwards? He won't talk about it. Or rather there's not been the right opportunity to ask him about it. We've always been on a case or I've had Mary with me. We've not had any time to just talk like we used to."

"I can't tell you how he did it John. I'm sworn to utter secrecy and I only know a small part of the happenings anyway. Mycroft sorted most of it. But after it happened, he spent a couple of nights at my flat, sleeping on my sofa. Well he didn't really sleep, he seemed to be planning something. I think he just used my place as a base. Then all of a sudden I got up one morning to find him standing there with his coat on. He gave me a kiss on the cheek, said thank you and that he had to be going. I asked him where and he said he couldn't tell me, that it was very dangerous and if he was still alive when he'd finished his task, he'd come and find me and let me know he was OK. Then as quickly as that he was gone. And I didn't hear from him or see him until he turned up in the locker room at work at the end of my shift. I think that was the night he'd found you and you hit him. So I can't tell you any more than that, I'm sorry John. "

"But you performed his autopsy, Molly. You certified him dead. Why didn't you at least give me a small indication that he was still alive? That's all I would have needed."

"I'm sorry John. I had to keep quiet. I'd promised Sherlock that I wouldn't tell you. I could see how much you were hurting and i wanted more than anything in the world to tell you, or at least to give you a hint but I just couldn't. I'd made a promise to him, and well, you know, it was Sherlock and... he's the one person I'd do anything for. You know that."

John nodded his head in silence. A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I never knew losing him would be as hard as it was. Never knew the true meaning of a best friend until I lost it. And then to nearly lose him again. I felt all the emotions rising up in me again. I though I could turn to Mary for support and the first time I could. But then when I found out what had gone on and the true course of events, the second time he took ill and collapsed in this flat I just had no one to turn to. You didn't know what had gone on. Mrs Hudson didn't know. Lestrade didn't know. The only person that knew, the person I needed most was fighting for his life again in surgery."

Molly got up from her chair. "I know, John" she said as she hugged him tightly, trying to put every ounce of support and friendship into one hug, to show him she was there for him.


	9. Chapter 9

They suddenly became aware of a muffled noise coming from the bedroom. Molly and John ran as fast as they could to find Sherlock trying to turn over in his sleep but he just couldn't. They gently helped him over. Molly sat on the bed next to him gently rubbing her fingers through his hair until he was fully settled. She lent over to give him a kiss on the forehead. John watched her with Sherlock and smiled.

Once they were sure he was settled again, the returned back to the living room.

John looked over at Molly "Tell me about it"

"About what?"

"You and Sherlock. Is it serious?"

Molly blushed slightly. "I don't really know yet. It's early days. What I do know is that there's something there between us which wasn't there before. He seems so much more gentle. So much more open to me than I've ever known him to be. I'm wary that of course it might just be the side effect of the drugs he's on, so I want to know they're totally out of his system first but I'm cautiously optimistic! We've had some wonderfully tender moments just the two of us, and it feels so right when we're holding each other. I guess we've just got to take it slowly."

"I'm pleased for you both, I really am. It's so weird seeing you both together. Catching you in his arms earlier was lovely to see, but really weird. He just looks so content. Well, you both do."

John looked downwards after he'd spoken and took a very long, very large drink of his wine, draining his glass. He refilled it straight away.

"What's happening with you and Mary, John?"

"Nothing at the moment, to be honest. You know the story. You know what she's done. I can't pull myself to be in the same room as her at present, we sleep in separate beds. We will sit down and talk about it soon. I love her too much to let this just all go. But for now I have to focus on Sherlock. It's her that put him in this position. It's her that hurt him so badly. I understand that she did what she had to do. Sherlock keeps telling me that he'd have done the same had he been her. That's all very well but I need to understand why. Why she did what she did in her past. Why she shot my best friend and almost killed him. There's alot of questions to be answered but I need Sherlock to be a part of much of the conversation to help me to contextualise it and to understand it. So until he's well Mary and I are not on speaking terms. We're married and we're together. We're just not a couple if that makes any sense? My focus is on him until such time as he's ready to help me."

"And I'm here for you if you need me"

"Thank you Molly. It means more than you know"

Molly and John spoke long into the night. The subject got round to some of the cases Sherlock and John had solved, some of the stranger autopsy's Molly had performed, and Lestrade and the work he was doing to find the person who shot Sherlock. In some ways Molly and John found it quite funny that they knew exactly what had happened that night but they just couldn't tell Lestrade. They laughed about the ideas Lestrade had for the identity of the shooter. None of them remotely anywhere near the truth.

It was well past one o'clock in the morning when, with both bottles of wine empty, they popped their head in to check on Sherlock. He was peaceful and settled. John wished Molly good night, and headed up to his old room. Molly settled herself down on the sofa. She knew she would struggle to get to sleep in the strange surroundings of the flat, with all the noise outside. She picked up the book she'd brought with her and had read a few pages when she heard the same noise coming from Sherlock's room. She got straight up and went to see him.

Sherlock was awake and trying to get himself off the bed to go to the bathroom. He had managed to get his legs onto the floor and was sitting up, but was finding himself in considerable pain lifting himself onto his feet to walk. Molly was quick to help him and he used her to lean on as they both walked into the bathroom.

She helped him to the toilet, smiling to herself that the Sherlock she knew just 5 or 6 weeks ago would never have let her help. But his injuries and pain meant that at the moment he really didn't care.

Once they were done in the bathroom, Molly helped Sherlock to settle down into bed. She stood up from the bed and went to leave. Sherlock's hand reached up and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't go"

"I have to go back to bed. It's nearly 2am and I'm tired."

"Stay with me. Please?"

"What, in your bed"

"Yes"

"But what if I hurt you. You've been in quite a bit of pain."

"You won't. I just need to know you're close"

Molly smiled to herself and walked around the other side of the bed. She carefully pulled back the sheets and climbed in next to Sherlock.

He was lying on his back and she lay next to him, making sure she didn't touch him. But before she realised, a hand had reached over and was gently pulling her closer to him. She duly obliged and snuggled in closer. He put his arm underneath her, so that her head was resting on his shoulder and her lips were touching his cheek.

Sherlock gently turned his head towards Molly and smiled at her. Their kiss was soft and tender. Delicate and loving. Erotic and sensuous. Molly could feel the heat rising as their slow kiss deepened and prolonged.

When they did pull away from each other, Molly felt quite breathless. She let out a gentle sigh and looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes.

"I want you, Molly Hooper"

"And I want you too, Sherlock"


	10. Chapter 10

Molly breathed heavily as she took in the enormity of the words Sherlock had just uttered to her. He wanted her. He wanted her.

She deepened her kiss even more and pulled him closer. She felt his arms tighten around hers. Molly could hardly breathe. He really did want her. This was really happening.

Sherlock's hand slowly moved underneath her top, and onto Molly's left breast. He cupped it gently and looked Molly straight in the eyes, with a smile that was deep and true. Molly dared to move her own hand onto his bare stomach. She could feel the muscle definition there. Even after all that time in hospital, it was there. Who knew Sherlock Holmes had a 6 pack. That was certainly an unexpected bonus! They lay there for some time, kissing each other, exploring each other slowly, gently, lovingly, caressing each other like it were the most precious toy that either of them had ever owned.

Molly slowly moved her hand downwards towards the top of Sherlock's shorts, and Sherlock followed suit moving his hand lower, almost waiting for Molly to make the first move. As Molly moved her hand lower, she accidentally caught Sherlock's wound and she felt him shudder in pain. He pulled very slightly away from her. Molly sat up, instantly aware that he was sore.

"Molly, I want this so badly, but my body just isn't ready. I hurt too much and I'm just too weak. Can you wait for me?"

Molly carefully took Sherlock's face in her hands " Just hearing you say that you want me is more than I could ever have imagined. I have wanted to be with you for so long now. Of course I can wait for you. I'll wait for as long as it takes. I know how tired you are and how much you hurt. We will do this when the time is right for you and when you feel strong enough."

"Thank you Molly." Sherlock settled in and closed his eyes. Molly snuggled in next to him. Sherlock was asleep before Molly had even put her arm around him. She lay there and looked at him. Of course she could wait. She could wait for ever if that is what it took. He had invited her into his bed, asked her to stay with him and told her he wanted her. In her wildest dreams that was more than she had hoped for, and no matter how long it took, that was all that mattered to her.

When Molly woke up the next morning it took her a moment to remember where she was. Her back and neck were hurting from where she had been lying at an awkward angle to make sure she gave him the space he needed in the bed. And then she remembered. Remembered the night before. Remembered she was next to Sherlock, who was still sleeping. Remembered that he had said he wanted her, and how they had kissed and touched each other and then fallen asleep in each others arms.

She looked across at his sleeping form and watched him breathe. Slow and laboured. He was still in a deep sleep.

Molly gently prised herself out of his arm which was still wrapped around her, put on his second best dressing down, and quietly opened the door. John was already in the kitchen making a cup of tea.

He looked at Molly and smiled "I see you didn't sleep on the sofa then?"

"Erm, no. He woke in the night to go to the bathroom so I helped him, and he asked me to stay with him. It was nice actually."

John's grin widened "Oh yes"

"Not like that, John" Molly quickly responded. "Do you think he's in any fit state to even think about that?"

"Maybe not last night" John quipped back. He stopped himself from adding "but it won't be long".

"Mrs Hudson is bringing us all breakfast. She offered last night. She said she was going to wait until she heard us all moving around. If she brings it up before Sherlock's awake we'll just keep it warm for him. I'll go and grab a shower".

Molly headed into the bathroom and took a shower. John finished making his cup of tea then settled down at the kitchen table to read yesterday's paper which he'd not got round to even opening.

Sherlock meanwhile was starting to awaken. He was still feeling delicate and his side throbbed as he lifted himself into the sitting position. But he was definitely much fresher and stronger than he had felt the day before. He smiled to himself as he looked over and saw the dent in the pillow that Molly had left.

Slowly he swung his legs around to the side of the bed, and started to ease himself onto his feet. Without realising he must have let out a groan because John was by his side with his arm under him to help him up before he'd even reached standing position.

"I've made some tea" JOhn said. "Thought you might like a cup?"

"Thank you, John, that sounds perfect"

"Mrs Hudson is bringing breakfast up for us all"

"Sounds great. I'm actually really hungry"

"That's not like you at all"

"I know, I'm definitely feeling a little stronger than I was yesterday, despite not quite being able to stand up out of bed!"

"Perhaps it was the company you had during the night?"

Sherlock looked at John, who was grinning. Sherlock smiled back "Yes, perhaps it was. And very nice company it was too"

John lowered his voice almost to a whisper "About time too, if you ask me".


	11. Chapter 11

John helped Sherlock into the kitchen and It wasn't long before they heard Mrs Hudson carrying the breakfast tray upstairs. John rushed to help her, and soon four plates of breakfast were being put into the table.

John went to the bathroom and knocked on the door shouting to Molly that breakfast was served. She shouted back that she'd be there in a moment.

"How are you this morning?" Mrs Hudson asked Sherlock as they started to tuck in.

"Actually a bit better thank you" Sherlock replied.

"Perhaps it was the company during the night that helped" John quickly added

Sherlock glared at him across the table

Mrs Hudson looked puzzled for a while as if to ask John why he'd spent the night in Sherlock's room.

"Oh Mrs Hudson, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm not gay! Not me". He motioned his head towards the bathroom

Suddenly the penny dropped and Mrs Hudson let out a slight squeal. "At last. But where did you find the strength from?"

Sherlock shook his head and looked down at his breakfast "I do not appreciate this topic of conversation while I'm having my breakfast" He said, smiling slightly. "And for your information, I don't have any strength at the moment, thank you."

Mrs Hudson and John giggled. They looked at each other knowingly.

Suddenly the front door bell rang. Mrs Hudson headed downstairs and answered it. They could hear voices downstairs followed by "They're up stairs having breakfast".

The footsteps grew louder on the stairs until a familiar figure appeared at the door of the kitchen

"Good Morning Inspector Lestrade" Sherlock said without lifting his head "How can we help you?"

"I've got a couple of problem cases, Sherlock. Could do with your help. I wasn't sure when you'd feel up to it"

"Let me just finish breakfast and then you can talk me through them. Your timing is perfect. I could do with something to keep me occupied"

"Cup of tea?" John asked as Lestrade sat down at the table with them.

"Yes please, John. That would be lovely. Erm, why is the table set for 4? Did you know to expect me?"

"No, it's for Molly" said Mrs Hudson excitedly. "She's just finishing in the shower and she'll be right out"

Lestrade looked puzzled. "Why is Molly here?"

"She stayed over to help me with Sherlock" John replied, handing a cup of tea to Lestrade "He's quite a dead weight when he collapses in a heap, I can tell you".

They ate their breakfast in silence, Lestrade throwing the odd curious glance at Sherlock who was oblivious to everything except his food, which was most unlike him. John smiled at them both. A hungry Sherlock was quite a rare event and now a jealous Lestrade. Oh, how he'd missed them both.

The door to the bathroom unlocked and Molly walked out cheerfully, towel drying her hair. She walked into the kitchen. She walked over and kissed Sherlock on the forehead before joining the others at the table. John was amused to note the look of horror on Lestrade's face.

"Thank you so much for this delicious breakfast Mrs Hudson. Just what the doctor ordered after being up half the night with our wounded soldier."

John looked at Sherlock who had looked up at Molly grinning, before trying to hide a laugh by studying a mushroom very closely. The look of horror on Lestrade's face grew even stronger. John snorted into his cup of tea.

"John, for the second time, it wasn't like that, OK?"

Sherlock, John, Molly and Mrs Hudson finished their breakfast and Mrs Hudson started to clear the plates away. Sherlock started to stand up from his chair, but it was obvious his legs were still on the weak side. Molly was by his side in an instant and walked with him to his bedroom. She went in with him and they shut the door. John also excused himself to just go and get dressed, leaving Lestrade and Mrs Hudson in the kitchen.

"He still not that well?" Lestrade asked Mrs Hudson

"Oh, he's on the right side of it. Yesterday was just a bit overwhelming for him. He slept for most of it, which isn't like him at all. Give him a day or two and he'll be really on the mend. Now he has his nursemaid to care for him, his strength will be back in no time." Mrs Hudson carried on washing up

"So, is there something going on between them then?" Lestrade asked "Sounds as if Molly spent the night with him last night. Is he just stringing her along?"

"You know I don't think he is this time", Mrs Hudson replied reaching for the drying up cloth. "I really think there is something there. He's a different person. He will be after what he's been through. He's nearly died twice, spent several weeks in hospital, and lost all the strength he has. It's the kind of thing that makes you re-evaluate. No, I think he and Molly are here to stay. And I hope so because for all his claims of being a sociopath, I don't believe them for one moment. He's as human as you and I. He's just better at managing his emotions than most of us. But love is one emotion you can't brush aside. It creeps up on you, and surprises you."

"So you think this is really love, Mrs Hudson"

"I know how much you like Molly, Greg, but yes I do. Molly knows it already and I think Sherlock does but he's just not admitted it to himself yet. He's not strong enough to act on his feelings yet but it will only be a matter of days I think."


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock soon settled back into being at home. As he regained slowly his strength more and more, firstly John returned to work, and then a few days later so did Molly.

Sherlock and Molly's relationship was very warm and affectionate but still not any further down the line. Molly now habitually stayed with Sherlock every night, and they cuddled up to each other as they fell asleep. More often than not they found themselves still tangled together as they awoke the next morning.

His routine was very simple. Wake up (with Molly next to him of course!), breakfast, pick up some of Lestrade's casework that he had been struggling with, lunch, sleep for a couple of hours, more case work, light dinner, chat with Molly and John and then bed.

It had taken Sherlock quite by surprise how slow his recovery actually was. He'd kidded himself that within a day or two at home, he would feel like his old self. It was now almost a week since he had come home, and while he was much stronger on his feet, and he was slowly regaining much of the weight he had lost during his stay in hospital, he was still quite lethargic.

"Thank goodness Lestrade came by and gave me something to do" he told Molly and John one night when they were sitting round the living room of the flat. "Quite simple of course, and I've almost run out of cases already, but refreshing all the same."

"Anything interesting to report?" John asked "I do need to update the blog. It's been a while since my last post which wasn't even a case. Sherlock's had an accident and will be out of action for a few weeks. Not even the truth."

"Nothing of significant interest. A couple of murders solved, a case of mistaken identity, and a parliamentary peer caught out for fraud. I could do with a really juicy case. One that I can get my teeth in to. One that will get me out of this flat."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Molly piped up

"Probably not but it would be nice to get started again" sighed Sherlock, looking at his glass of wine longingly. Game of Cluedo anyone"

Molly and John instantly replied at the same time "No" and laughed. Sherlock was not someone to play Cluedo against. He tended to guess the correct answer before the first person had even rolled the dice.

"I'm off for a shower" said Molly getting up "Got a really early start in the morning so I think I'll wash my hair now. See you in a bit". She headed off into Sherlock's bedroom to collect her towel and robe, before going into the bathroom. She turned on the taps and they could hear the water running

John and Sherlock were left alone in the living room

John looked at Sherlock and casually asked him "How's it going then?"

"Well, if you are referring to myself and Molly, its going fine. I'm enjoying her company and I believe she is enjoying mine."

"And is it serious between you both?"

Sherlock looked down at his feet. He actually couldn't answer that question. Since the first night he had come home, Molly had joined him in bed, and he'd told her how much he wanted her, he hadn't actually and truthfully given it much more thought. The next morning he had wanted to speak with her, but she was up earlier than him, and when he did get chance to see her, Lestrade was there. Then Lestrade had given him some case work, and he'd been so glad of the change and the chance to exercise his brain. He'd completely lost himself in his work again. Then in the evenings John had tended to come home earlier than Molly, so there was little time for the two of them to talk. They all had dinner together, then sat around and chatted for a couple of hours with a glass of wine. Molly usually retired a little earlier than John and Sherlock, who had taken to playing cards. Molly was then usually up earlier than he was so all in all he'd not had chance to speak to her. Yes, they had kissed in bed each night, rather passionately at times, but it had not gone any further than that.

John took a deep intake of breath. "You've not thought about it or spoken to her, have you?"

Sherlock silently shook his head.

"You do like her though, don't you? I mean, you do intend to take this further don't you?"

"Yes John, I like her very much. More than I had realised. I guess I'm just not great at all of this. It's all a bit new to me. And then Lestrade brought along some case work for me, and I was just so glad of the change and the chance to think about something completely different. It was refreshing. I'm not good at this am I? I'm pushing her away due to work again aren't I?

"Sherlock, I'm no relationship expert. I mean, look at me and Mary right now. Married but living apart. She's pregnant with our child and I've missed two anti-natal appointments to look after you. But what I can tell you is that loving someone isn't enough. You have to tell them, quite often, just how much you care about them. It doesn't always have to be through words. Sometimes the smallest of gestures can be enough. But don't let this go. Don't lose her. You and her are good together. I never thought I'd see they day when you fell in love, but I do believe you have, and with absolutely the right person. She's patient and kind, but even she won't wait forever and won't be strung along. You have to tell her, and more importantly show her how you feel about her."

"I did sort of tell her"

"When?"

"About a week ago"

"And what did you say to her?"

"I told her I wanted her"

"And what did she say back?"

"That she wanted me too."

"So you have then?"

"Have what?"

"Had sex of course"

"Erm, no. Not yet."

John shook his head and looked deep into Sherlock's eyes "And why not?"

Sherlock couldn't answer.

"Sherlock, it's not scary. It's lovely. When you love someone, or care for them very deeply as you do with Molly, it's the most natural thing in the world. I know you like to be in control, but just this once trust me and let go. I think you'll rather like it. Go on, go to her now, and show her how you feel. But give me 2 minutes to get upstairs, and get my TV on loud so I don't have to listen, will you."

Sherlock smiled and John and nodded. John smiled right back at him. John stood up and picked up his wine glass. He walked over to Sherlock and put his hand on his shoulder. "Remember, take your time, show her how you feel and most of all, let go."

And with that John took himself out of the room, and headed up stairs to his bedroom. Sherlock waited until he could hear John's television go on, quite loud. He eased himself up out of his chair and walked slowly towards the bathroom where he could hear Molly showering. He took a deep breath and slowly turned the bathroom door handle.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock walked slowly into the bathroom. It was all steamed up but he could see Mollys through the white shower curtain which surrounded the bath. She appeared to be washing her hair.

Sherlock was suddenly aware that he had actually never seen Molly fully naked. Yes, he'd touched her breast, and held her close and kissed her. Oh how he'd kissed her. But he'd not actually seen her fully naked. He actually hadn't seen many women at all naked. Apart from Irene Adler.

He stood silently on the spot, watching her wash herself. It was strangely arousing. Watching someone while they are not aware you are there. He felt a strange sensation in his groin. One of pleasure.

He debated what to do for a little while. Should he wait for her in the bedroom. Should he stay there standing in silence until she turned the water off and opened the curtain. Should he go in there and join her. His heart was pounding so hard. He felt utterly alive. John was right. "Let go and I think you'll rather like it". Wasn't that what John had said?

Sherlock started to undo his buttons. He eased his shirt off his arms, still slightly wincing as he pulled across the point at which the bullet had entered him and penetrated his being. The physical scars were taking their time to heal. The bullet wound, the subsequent surgery. All there, marked on his body for all time.

He threw his shirt onto the floor, and then sat down and stepped out of his shoes, and removed his socks. He slowly took off his trousers, leaving himself just in his boxer shorts.

He moved himself closer to the shower, still looking at Molly's naked form. She was so beautiful. He couldn't help himself, he was becoming aroused just looking at her. Sherlock Holmes, the master of all emotions, who never let them interfere with his life was becoming exposed to the one emotion he always said he wouldn't. Didn't he call it human error.

Molly became aware of a noise and popped her head around the shower curtain just . "Oh Sherlock it's you." She stopped in her tracks when she saw that he was almost naked. That beautifully toned torso. He was, in her eyes, the most beautiful man. "Come and join me"

She gently pulled him closer to the bath and put her arms around his neck. She was soaking wet, and so warm. She pulled him in and kissed him. So deeply, so slowly, so sensuously. It was not rushed. They stood there for quite some time kissing before Molly's hands lowered down to Sherlock's boxer shorts. Her hands went inside the elastic and she started to ease them down, over his now fully erect manhood. Once relieved of his shorts, she gently pulled him into the shower with her, and there they stood, in each others arms, kissing under the water flow. Sherlock's erection sat in the middle of Molly's tummy. As they continued to kiss, she pulled her tummy in close to him, to fully feel its form.

Sherlock lowered one hand, and cupped Molly's left breast. As he did so, he eased slightly back to look more closely at it and her. "Utterly beautiful" he murmured as he took her in. He caressed her breast, then moved down to kiss it. He groaned slightly as he tried to bend, the pain still present in his chest wound. "Perhaps not quite yet" he said as he smiled to Molly and stood up straight again.

They became aware of the water starting to cool.

"Lets get out and into the bedroom" Molly said turning the water off.

They pulled slightly apart. She had time to take in his amazing body. So lean. Not one ounce of excess fat. As you'd expect with Sherlock. Nothing excess that wasn't needed. His amazing physique, that awful scar and wound now the only mark on what would otherwise be a model's body. She smiled to herself. He could have earned a fortune as a model with a body like that. But the thing that made her smile most of all was his manhood. So proud and erect. Absolutely perfect, and erect for her. Yes, he wanted her. Right here and right now, she hoped.

Molly get out first, quickly wrapping a towel around her, before returning back to the bath to help Sherlock. She held his arm as he gingerly stepped over the lip of the bath and onto the floor, wincing with the pain that shot up his right side as his foot hit the floor from height. She gently wrapped a warm towel around his shoulders, and held his hand, leading him into the bedroom.

Their towels were quickly discarded as they pulled into each other, kissing each other so hard that they were almost eating each others faces. Their breath shallow and rapid as they were driven wild with passion. Molly pulled Sherlock towards the bed, where he gently lowered his weight down before lying down completely. Molly was soon to join him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other sitting across is groin, almost touching him. Sherlock shuddered as she moved her hand down to take his manhood fully in her hand. She started to rub him gently. As she did this, he moved his hand down to her groin area to start to touch her too.

But before he could get the chance to, in one quick move, she lifted herself sideways and took him in her mouth. Sherlock thought he might hit the ceiling with pleasure. He had never in all his life felt anything quite like it. John was right. He was letting himself go, and he wasn't just liking it. He was utterly and completely loving it. Molly had the most intimate part of his body in her mouth. His whole body was filled with waves of pleasure. Complete and utter pleasure.

He felt the waves of pleasure growing stronger and stronger. He pushed Molly away from him. She just smiled at him. "I'm not going to stop. I want you to come into my mouth. It's the most intimate thing I can do to you at the moment as I know you're not strong enough for full on sex at the moment. You won't stand my weight on you, and you're not able to be on top of me yet, so just let yourself go in the moment." She took him back in her mouth.

It wasn't long before Sherlock was totally out of control. His body was totally out of control, rocking in time with the licking and pulsing that Molly was doing. He started to shake and found himself cry out the words "Oh god Molly" as he came strongly into her mouth. His ejaculation was long, strong and pulsing. Molly loved seeing the pleasure she was giving him, until at last he was done. Utterly exhausted but beyond happy.

When he had got his breath back all he could simply utter was "That was amazing. Now show me how I can return the favour to you."

Molly smiled. She had waited for her turn for so long. She wanted him more than she knew. She wanted to have full sex with him. Right here and right now. But she knew while he was regaining his strength rapidly, his body still wasn't ready for it. So she pulled him in deeply and kissed him, while taking his right hand and placing it between her legs. She started to show him what to do, and he copied, listening to every groan of delight that Molly made, and every sigh, taking each noise as an indicator of what she liked and what she didn't like.

"You are a very fast learner" she smiled at him, as waves of pleasure were working their way through her body. She gently encouraged his hand down a little lower, showing him how to enter her using his fingers. It was the most amazing sensation she had ever felt. Yes, she'd had penetrative sex before so she'd gone much further than fingering, but never with someone she felt so deeply about. It was utterly amazing.

Sherlock was indeed a fast learner. Once he'd got the idea of one finger, it was not long until two and then three were inserted. And boy, did he have long, sensuous, amazing fingers. And an amazing thumb which just seemed to know that its role was to massage her clit while the fingers were inside her. He started slowly and then gradually built up this rhythm. They kissed as they rocked, Sherlocks body moving in time with Molly's as they speed and intensity grew.

Her body arched with pleasure as she hit her climax. She screamed and shouted out "Oh shit" as she came, holding Sherlock as closely as she could, kissing him deeply.

Out of breath and in complete ecstasy, they rolled over onto their sides, holding each other tightly.

Upstairs John smiled to himself. Molly's scream had been louder than his TV. "At last" he thought to himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Sherlock awoke early the next morning, way before Molly. His body still remembering the sensations of last night. The way Molly felt as she came in his arms, the sensation he had felt as she took him in her mouth. John was right. He had let go, and he had loved it. He had loved her.

He rolled over and watched her sleep. Beautiful Molly, her hair spread across the pillow. His Molly. Dependable, reliable Molly. The person he had come to rely on as much as he relied on air and water.

But deep down something was nagging him. He wanted to care. Damn it, he did care. And he wanted to keep on caring. He wanted to stay in her arms for ever, and to find sanctuary there. He didn't want it to end. But end it had to, if she was to stay safe. He knew he had to keep her safe. He knew loving her meant danger to her very being. He had to stop caring. He had to let her go. He loved her too much to keep loving her. The only way she would be safe was if he walked away.

He got up and put on his dressing gown, and went into the kitchen. He sat down at the kitchen table. His insides were aching. Not aching from the gun shot wound this time, but aching from the pain of even contemplating losing Molly. He sat in silence for a long time, visiting his mind palace, trying with increasing desperation to find a way of keeping her. To find a way of keeping his Molly safe. The more he thought, the more it became apparent to him that he could not keep her. The more the ache in his inside grew.

John appeared at the kitchen door "Good night by any chance?"

Sherlock didn't respond. He couldn't even lift up his head. He was fighting back tears. Sherlock never cried. Sherlock never fought back tears. But today he was.

John walked over to Sherlock and put his hand on his shoulder "Are you OK?"

Sherlock just shook his head. The tears started to flow, helpless to control them, he just let them come.

"Do you need to talk?"

"Yes, but just not now."

"OK. You're going to hurt her aren't you?"

"Yes. I have no choice."

John looked at Sherlock in desperation. "What do you mean you have no choice? There's always a choice. There's always a way. You have to find a way." His voice was growing increasingly desperate.

"I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. I've desperately tried." Sherlock looked up at John, the pain evident in his eyes, red with the tears that were still flowing "If I could change it..."

John squared up to Sherlock and looked him deeply in the eyes. And he hugged him. John knew he couldn't understand why, but what he did know was that for once in his life, Sherlock had a heart. A heart that was tearing him apart. A heart that was loving someone for the first time, but that knew love meant danger.

"I have to go and talk to Molly." Sherlock stood up from the table and went straight into the bedroom. John headed straight upstairs. He grabbed the first clothes he could find, and headed out of the flat as quickly as possible. He didn't want to be around. He didn't want to see Molly torn to shreds. He didn't want to see Sherlock cry as he watched Molly head across the road and out of his life.

It was several hours later that John returned to the flat. The flat was immaculate. Clean, tidy and everything was in its correct place. Sherlock was pacing the kitchen, in between washing up. It was obvious to John that he had spent the whole time busying himself as Molly would have done had she been with him.

Sherlock had obviously been crying as his eyes were puffy, but he was doing his very best to brush emotion aside again, to regain composure, and to re-focus. John wanted to start a conversation with Sherlock but just wasn't sure of the best way to start.

"Have you had any lunch?" John casually enquired, trying to start the conversation. He had a feeling it wouldn't be a long one.

"Not hungry" was the response. Sherlock wouldn't even lift his head to meet John's eye contact.

"Did you do it? Did you talk to Molly? How was she?"

Sherlock couldn't answer. He just nodded his head, as the tears started to flow again. John walked over to Sherlock and hugged him again. Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder and sobbed. He'd never fully let his emotions out in front of John before. He wasn't sure how John would react, but then of course John would be there for him. John was his best friend. He was John's best friend. Best friends do that for each other.

He cried for quite some time, then took himself off to the bathroom to clean himself up. John put the kettle on to make a cup of tea and waited for Sherlock's return.

When he did return, Sherlock had obviously had a shower to freshen himself up. He sat down in his chair with his cup of tea. John sat opposite him.

Sherlock began to speak. The words were broken and well thought out "It had to be, John. I have to sort Magnussen. Molly can't be involved. He looks for the weakness in everyone. He plays on that weakness and threatens it. She can't be threatened, John. It can't happen. While she is with me, she is in danger. I have to put her welfare first. I have to make sure she is OK."

"But you two are so good together.

"Which is why it has to end. Magnussen will not stop at anything until he gets his way. He'll find her pressure point and exploit it to get to me. And that can't happen. This is the only way she can be safe. That's all that matters."

"Do you love her, Sherlock?"

Sherlock paused for a moment before responding."Yes John, I do."


	15. Chapter 15

John's phone bleeped with a text

_Are you around? Fancy a coffee? MH_

John knew what Molly wanted to talk about

_Yes, I'm around. Meet you in 30 mins? Usual Cafe? JW_

_Sounds great. Thank you. MH_

It was nearly 10 days since he'd last seen Molly, the night before Sherlock had ended his relationship with her. Sherlock had been was out and about for the past 4 or 5 days, his body pretty much back to full strength. He was out at all hours, and back to his routine of rarely sleeping. John had watched him that very morning, thinking how amazing it was that a matter of only 6 or 7 weeks ago he had been fighting for his life following a near fatal shooting. And now here he was back dashing all over London.

Sherlock had been with Lestrade all the previous day, closing down cases which had remained unsolved while he was ill in hospital. The ease and speed with which Sherlock had solved many of those which had puzzled the yard was still a source of wonder and awe to both John and Lestrade.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes was back, and firing on all cylinders - except for one thing. His eyes were sad. His eyes were so very sad. A deep down pain, a longing, a missing someone. Sherlock Holmes was heart broken and busying himself to keep away from the pain.

John grabbed his coat and headed out to meet Molly. He wasn't exactly looking forward to seeing her. He liked Molly alot, and he had grown close to her over these past weeks of Sherlock's illness. But he knew she was hurting too. He was the man in the middle for two people who should be together but who weren't.

John spotted Molly in the corner of the cafe. She was looking pale and she'd lost a lot of weight. He knew she'd been working all hours since it happened. The same as Sherlock. Work to block out the pain. John ordered a coffee from the counter and sat down.

"How are you, Molly?"

"How do you think? Hurt, confused, upset, cross, angry, sad. Did I say hurt?"

"I don't know what to say, Molly."

"Did he say anything at all to you, John? Has he given you any idea at all why? I just don't understand it. We had the most amazing night together. The kind of night which doesn't happen between two people unless they really like each other. And then bang, the next morning it's all over, and he wants to split up."

John knew he couldn't tell Molly the truth. He knew he couldn't tell her that Sherlock loved her so much that he had to let her go. That his love for her was so strong that the only way he could keep her safe was to finish it."He hasn't spoken to me much. I don't really understand. I've not seen him much. He's been out working."

"Is he feeling better then?"

"He's much better. He's pretty much back to his old self. He's been working with Lestrade down at the yard for the past couple of days, and I think he's starting to pick up the case he was working on before everything happened."

"Good, I'm glad about that. It's been a long road..." Molly looked down at her drink "one I hoped I'd still be walking with him."

John put his hand onto Molly's shoulder. Oh how he hated knowing the truth. Knowing Sherlock would give anything for Molly still to be by his side.

"I think he just can't commit, John. It's like he's scared. I've looked into his eyes. I've kissed him. I've held him. I've almost made love to him. He does care, I know he does. Something has happened. I know it. I just don't know what to do. Do you have any ideas?"

John looked deeply into Molly's eyes "You know Sherlock. Always the element of surprise and the unexpected." He paused before continuing "Molly, I'm sure you do have a future. What that future looks like or is, I just don't know. I think you need to be patient with him."

"I've been patient for 5 years, John. And then I thought I had him, and now I've lost him again. I'm not sure how much longer I can be patient for."

"Molly, do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, John."

"Then believe me when I say, that you have to be patient. I really don't know much more than you, but please wait."

Molly nodded. "I will, John, I will."


	16. Chapter 16

As Sherlock was well again, John had returned to working at the surgery. This meant he and Sherlock rarely crossed paths, as Sherlock kept such odd hours. Sometimes John wondered if Sherlock was even bothering to come home at all. It was just little signs like a new dirty mug in the sink, or papers moved on the table. Sherlock was usually such an untidy person, but for some reason, since Molly had left, he kept the flat immaculate. John didn't even think Sherlock was sleeping. That was nothing unusual for him when he was involved in a case, but his bed looked like it hadn't been slept in for days.

It was about 8 days after John's meeting with Molly that they finally found themselves in the kitchen together at the same time. John studied Sherlock carefully. Sherlock was leaning over his microscope, studying some scraps of paper carefully, noting what he found. John could see that Sherlock had lost pretty much all of the weight he had gained while Molly was staying, and there were big black rings around his eyes. He also smelt of nicotine, which was quite unusual for him, meaning that he'd also gone back to smoking. Again almost certainly as a reaction to what had happened with Molly.

A flash of panic swept through John's mind. He hoped and prayed that it was only tobacco that Sherlock had turned back to.

"Don't worry John, I'm not taking any drugs. I just fancied a cigarette. I have been working alot with Lestrade, and it's just too much sitting with him all day smelling tobacco on him and not being able to have one myself"

John smiled to himself. He didn't know how Sherlock did it. It was almost like he could read his mind.

John knew when Sherlock was busy, it wasn't the time to try and talk to him, so he made two coffees, handed one to Sherlock and then went and sat down in his chair with a book he'd been enjoying. He couldn't put the TV on as he knew it would disturb Sherlock.

He didn't mind. During the dark hours when Sherlock was in intensive care, John had prayed for a night just like this. One where Sherlock was lost in his work, while John could just sit quietly. At some points it had really looked like this might never happen. That Sherlock might not pull through and the unthinkable would happen and John would lose him for a second time, but this time with no miracle return. A wave of coldness flooded through John as he thought about it. He thought about how close he'd come to losing Sherlock for a second time.

John was well into his book, having read for a couple of hours, when he became aware of Sherlock standing up from his chair. He went to the cupboard in the kitchen, pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Whisky. Sherlock never really drank Whisky. John knew there must be something on his mind.

"Fancy a drink?" Sherlock casually enquired to John as he walked over with the two glasses and the bottle in hand.

John put his book down, and sat up straight in his chair "Sounds like a great idea".

Sherlock poured out two generous measures, and then he sat himself down in his chair. He proceeded to tell John about his day. About the fact he and Lestrade had been half way across London on foot tracking someone they knew to have false documents in hand relating to the purchase of a piece of artwork from the Tate Gallery. How they'd had to lay low for some time, and had almost missed the scent at one point as they were having a cigarette. Sherlock spoke with such animated enthusiasm about his work. It was obvious to John that Sherlock had enjoyed the exercise and had enjoyed having his mind stretched. The fact he was strong enough to exercise and to undertake such activities was still somewhat of a novelty to Sherlock.

But it was the eyes which gave it away. Sherlock's mannerisms were animated and full of life, but still his eyes betrayed him. Still there was this sadness deep within. The kind of sadness that only a true friend could spot.

"How are you doing?" John casually enquired.

"Ok"

"Can I just ask you one thing. It's just that I don't get it. If you knew you had to end it with Molly, why did you take it so far with her?"

Sherlock shook his head "John, I honestly don't know. I guess I got lost in the moment. Lost in the hope that it could work. I hoped I could find a solution that wouldn't end this way. But I just couldn't. I had an error of judgement. A serious error of judgement."

"Well, I think it was bloody selfish."

"Lets change the subject shall we?" Sherlock quickly responded. "I need to ask you the same question. Have you spoken to Mary?"

John was taken quite aback by Sherlock's straight out question. John hadn't been prepared for it. "She's OK. I've seen her a couple of times for ante natal appointments, to check on the baby. She's not been too well. She's had some bleeding so she's spent a few days in hospital. But in terms of speaking to her, no, I've not spoken to her. In fact I've not even said hello to her, come to think of it."

"John" Sherlock said quietly "I think you need to talk to Mary. I'd like you both to join me at my parents for Christmas Dinner next week. Mycroft will be there too. I know you've only met my parents a few times, here and at the hospital, but I think you'll find being at their house of benefit. They don't know what's gone on, obviously. They don't know who shot me. They've just decided they want to have a family Christmas dinner now I'm out of hospital. We haven't done it for years - well, since Mycroft left to go to university really. I'll drive us all down."

"Erm, you can drive?"

"John, this is a serious matter. You and Mary need to talk. You need to work this out."

John could feel the anger rising up in him. His voice began to get aggressive "And who on earth are you to tell me whether I should or shouldn't make up with my wife?"

"I'm the one she shot and nearly killed"

John was unable to respond. Of course Sherlock had a say. John had been violated by all of this and his hurt was deep and psychological, but it was Sherlock who bore the physical scars.

John nodded. Of course Sherlock was right. "What do you need me to do?"

"John, I have to close this case with Magnussen. There are many loose ends to tie up, but one of the biggest is you and Mary. Do you still love her?"

"Of course I do. This is tearing me apart. I love her so much. But I just can't trust her. I can't trust what she was. I don't know her any more."

"Then you have to put this behind you. You have to move on and start to trust her again. The problems of her past are her business. The problems of her future are your privilege."

John memorised the words Sherlock had just said to him. They summarised it totally. As usual, Sherlock had got to the crux of something.

"You're right. Of course we'll come to your parents. I'll text her."


	17. Chapter 17

John and Sherlock were awake early on Christmas Day. Mycroft had arranged for a car to be delivered for them to drive down to Sherlock's parents house. It was about a 2 hour journey out of London to get there and they had to be there for around 11am. They were picking Mary up at 9.

John loved the bottle of 25 year old Whisky that Sherlock had bought him. Sherlock was equally delighted with the new petri dishes and slides that John had bought him. Mrs Hudson had brought cooked breakfast up for them all to enjoy, along with gifts for them both. They had delighted her with a gift of a weekend away in the country for her to take with her sister.

Breakfast was nearly finished and the conversation was flowing, when Mrs Hudson casually enquired after Molly and Mary. Sherlock and John were both very silent.

"We're picking Mary up later and taking her with us to Christmas lunch at Sherlock's parents" John replied

"And Molly?"

Sherlock quickly ate a mushroom off his plate and concentrated on cutting a piece of bacon combining it with some egg

John responded for Sherlock "We've not seen Molly for some time, Mrs Hudson"

"Well I think it's a real shame. You two were so good together. Sherlock, you need to get your act together and talk to that girl. She loves you, you know."

"I know" came a quiet response from Sherlock.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, and then Mrs Hudson kissed them both, wished them merry Christmas, and headed back down to her flat with the empty plates.

"Have you spoken to Molly?" John casually enquired?

"No, not for a while." He paused and took a deep breath "I can't John."

"But you do want to, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I want nothing more than to get this Magnussen case sorted. To get it closed and to be able to move on, but I just can't see a way forward with it. I think I may have a glimpse of the end, but it's hopefully. Then once it's over, Molly and I can... Well, we just can. I do want her here, John. It's Christmas. We're having dinner with my parents. She should be here, John. She should..." his voice trailed off into nothing.

John looked at Sherlock and could see a man fighting emotion. A man who wanted nothing more than to get mad, to vent all his anger and hurt and to let the emotion out. But this was Sherlock Holmes and apart from the rare show of emotion on the day he had split with Molly, Sherlock had never let his emotions get out of control.

"C'mon John. It's almost 8. We have to pick Mary up in an hour, and we both have to shower first." With that, Sherlock marched out of the kitchen into the bathroom. John knew that marked the end of the conversation. No more would be said about Molly today.

John and Sherlock were in the car in no time. It was still a source of amusement to John that Sherlock could drive. Why Sherlock would waste his time learning a skill such as driving was beyond John

"It was my parents who made me", Sherlock explained. "They thought it was a useful life skill. That and learning to swim. Oh, and I'm quite useful on a skate board too. That wasn't my parents idea. That was mine. I did it to annoy Mycroft."

When they arrived to pick up Mary, Sherlock felt a wave of panic hit him. He was annoyed with himself for his lack of self control, but he couldn't help it. It was her eyes. When he looked into her eyes, he felt the shot; he felt the pain; he felt himself dying. He was glad when she climbed into the back, directly behind him so he didn't have to look at her in his rear view mirror.

The journey to Sherlock's parents was mostly in silence. John had met them briefly once before, and then for longer at the hospital when they had come to Sherlock's bedside as he lay gravely ill. John smiled to himself. Sherlock's parents were so very normal. So very loving and warm. So welcoming. It was so strange that they should have two sons such as Sherlock and Mycroft, who were so unlike them. John knew, from meeting his parents, that Sherlock actually had a massive capacity to love, if only he would let go. If only he'd realise that some emotions were actually good ones. That loving the right person was not human error at all. It was the most natural thing in the word. Sherlock and Molly together were the most natural thing in the world.

John and Mary were greeted with warmth by Sherlock's parents. They were made to feel extremely welcome and the Holmes family were generous hosts.

In the warmth and security of the Holmes family home, John took his time to talk to Mary, and Mary to talk to him. The pain between the two was obvious, and deep down Sherlock knew Mary and John talking and reconciling would mean the end of John living at Baker Street. That John would move back in with Mary and he would, once again, be alone in the flat. But it was a price he was willing to pay. For he knew that Magnussen had to be sorted once and for all. That the only way to ensure John's safety and the welfare of his child was to close the Magnussen case once and for all.

The day panned out to be interesting. Sherlock had never intended to drug his parents and his brother, but he had been left with little choice. He certainly hadn't meant to drug a heavily pregnant woman, although in a strange way, revenge did feel quite good.

The trip to Appledore hadn't turned out as expected. The vaults were not as he had expected. He had realised, with increasing clarity during the visit, that there was only one way out. John had his revolver, and Magnussen had to be stopped.

"Oh little brother, what have you done?" asked Mycroft looking down on Sherlock from a helicopter.


	18. Chapter 18

Molly phone bleeped and it woke her up.

_Put the news on. GL_

Molly sleepily headed out of her bedroom into the lounge, and put on BBC News 24. Something about a shooting. A shooting at a place called Appledore. She'd heard of that. She'd heard Sherlock talking about that place. Oh shit. It's Sherlock. What's he doing on the TV? Why has he got his hands above his head? Why are they handcuffing him? Oh shit. What's happened.

_What's happened? MH_

_Sherlock's shot Magnussen. He's in custody now. GL_

Molly collapsed to her knees. Please no. Sherlock, what the hell have you done?

She lept to her feet. There was a body. And a shooting, which meant one thing. The body would be at Barts for a post mortem. She needed to be there. She needed to know what had gone on.

At the police station, Lestrade was pacing backwards and forwards. Mycroft was on his telephone. John was sitting quietly in the corner, staring into space in shock.

"The bloody idiot" Lestrade said over and over again "The bloody idiot. Why on earth?"

Sergeant Donovan popped her head around the corner "Always said it. Said that one of these days there would be a body in the morgue and Sherlock Holmes would have put it there."

"Shut up Donovan" snapped Lestrade. He walked over to John "John, this is Sherlock we are talking about. He doesn't do things without planning them. So, what the hell has he done and why did he do it? He has to have a reason. There has to be an explanation."

"Motive and reason are entirely irrelevant" Mycroft responded "I regret to say that my brother is a murderer, and as such we must deal with him accordingly." He returned to his phone call.

Lestrade paced some more. Mycroft ended his telephone call. John looked up to see what was happening. "I do believe that there is not a prison we can incarcerate Sherlock Holmes in" Mycroft explained. "It has been arranged in the short term he will be placed under house arrest whilst we decide upon a suitable punishment for him. There is, what you might say an element of support for my brother on his choice of victim. Perhaps Magnussen wasn't the most popular of people, but it is still murder. Cold blooded murder."

Lestrade nodded, and set about sorting out the relevant paperwork. He knew that Sherlock would be punished, and that was to come, but at least for now he could get home. A home under police guard but at least it was home. There Lestrade may be able to talk to him, to understand why, and perhaps even to sort things out.

Sherlock was back at Baker Street within a few hours, with a police presence mounted at the front door. Sherlock was utterly drained from the events of the past 24 hours, and unlike him, fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But it was not a restful sleep. Flashes of the events of the day hit him. His drugged, unconscious parents, of the shot, and the memory of his own pain upon being shot. But most of all his mind went to Molly. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to have extricated the documents relating to Mary and then to let Magnussen get on with his life. He was supposed to come home and to know Molly was safe, and to fall back into her arms, but it wasn't going to be. One moment of cold blooded realisation that the documents didn't exist and everything had to change. Sherlock had to end Magnussen's life. He had to save John and the baby. He had to pull the trigger. He had to sacrifice himself for John, or he would never have been free. He would never have been safe. He'd always have been looking over his shoulder. John, the man who had saved him, now needed saving himself, and Sherlock was the only person who could do that.

He lost count of the number of times he woke up in a cold sweat. The number of times the rush of sheer panic waved through his body. The number of times the pain in his stomach grew at the thought of not being able to hold Molly again.

He woke up with a start, conscious of a noise in the flat. At first he thought it was John come to visit but the footsteps were too light, too quiet, too familiar.

He climbed out of bed and slipped on his dressing gown, noting the time as 9am. He'd been home and trying to sleep for 4 hours. It had been a long night. He let out a stifled yawn, mad at himself for being tired.

He walked out into the kitchen and there she was. His Molly. Looking like she'd not slept all night, with her hair scraped back and her scruffy jeans on. She made two cups of coffee and then sat down at the kitchen stool in silence, her head looking at the surface of the table. Sherlock sat down on the opposite side of the table to her, and sipped the coffee she'd made for him.

Eventually Molly spoke "He wasn't a very nice man, was he? Everyone I've spoken to says he wasn't a very nice man. A really horrible man actually. Is that why you did it?"

Sherlock stared at his coffee. He couldn't speak. He hadn't expected to be hit with a question like this from Molly of all people. He hadn't expected to have to speak about it at all. He'd made a decision to shut it out. To close himself from it. It had happened. He couldn't change it.

"I went to the morgue" Molly continued. "I saw his body. It was a clean shot. A clean kill shot. At least you did it properly."

Sherlock let out a nervous laugh and continued to stare into his coffee. He sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity to Molly.

When he did speak, he simply said one word "Sorry."

"Why?"

Sherlock could hold back no longer. The last 24 hours had drained him of all emotional strength he had left. What was it John had said 'Let go and I think you'll enjoy it', wasn't it? Well perhaps if he let go now, he certainly wouldn't enjoy it, but he might be able to help Molly understand why he did what he did, both to her and Magnussen.

He let it all pour out. He told Molly the whole story. About how Magnussen played on people's weaknesses. Their pressure points, and how he exploited them for his own gain. For blackmail. And for him, John had always been his pressure point until he met her. He wasn't prepared to put her in danger. Magnussen had to believe that John was still Sherlock's pressure point for the plan to work. But John was no longer his pressure point, it was her. She was the one who mattered the most. She was the one who was in danger from Magnussen, so he had to do something about it. He had to protect her. To make sure she was safe.

Molly sat and listened to Sherlock, her mouth agape. She knew something had happened which had made him pull away. She knew that his behaviour wasn't as she'd expected. She knew he still cared. And the more he spoke and the more he explained, the more she knew he still cared. He still wanted her by his side.

Sherlock finished talking and Molly stood up. She walked over to him, and held him. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you at least give me some kind of indication?"

"Because Magnussen had to believe John was my pressure point. You were being watched and observed. If you had known I was lying, you would have behaved differently. Magnussen had to believe that you and I had split up. That we were over. It was the only way to keep you safe. And then once it was sorted out and the case closed, you and I were going to be back together. I'm so sorry, Molly. Now I've gone and blown it all by shooting him."

Molly held Sherlock even tighter, then lifted his head. She kissed him on the forehead "Don't talk about it. Lets just have today" And with that she stood him up, held his hand, and led him to the bedroom.


	19. Chapter 19

Molly silently led Sherlock into the bedroom. She finally knew. She knew she was right all along. He did care. He cared so much that he was willing to put her welfare before everything. She knew they belonged together. That they were meant to hold each other, to show each other how they felt.

She closed the door behind them and walked over to Sherlock. She looked at him. His face looked tired, afraid, scared but at the same time his eyes shone with happiness. A man that knew what fate awaited him, but in the mean time was confronted with the one person he cared most about in the world. The one person he had driven away was now back with him, where she belonged. How long this would last he didn't know, but for now he was determined to enjoy it. To enjoy her. To let go and to love it.

Molly stood on her tip toes and kissed him. As their lips locked together, they both felt the wave of electricity hit them. Their passion and desire for each other evident. They had kissed and touched each other before. They had shown how much they cared, but last time Sherlock's body wasn't strong enough for sex. This time things had dramatically moved on and he was back to full fitness. His body was ready for intimacy and his whole being screamed out with longing.

Their kissing was passionate, intense and strong, with hands wandering all over each others bodies. Molly ran her fingers through Sherlock's hair, driving him wild with desire and passion. His hand cupped her bottom and pulled her in close. She could feel his excitement through his trousers.

Without pausing the kiss, Sherlock was working Molly's top off, breaking the kiss only to slip her top over her head. She smiled to herself as he fumbled with her bra. Not something he was experienced in doing. Every time they had been together before, she had already taken it off.

Eventually he had to admit defeat "Help me Molly" he uttered breathlessly

Molly reached behind her and removed her bra. Sherlock stood back and admired her. This was his Molly and now he had her again he wasn't going to let go. He wasn't going to go through that pain and hurt again. He had never realised that separation from someone could hurt so much. Yes, he had hurt when he'd left John for 2 years after the fall, but John was his friend. He didn't love John in the way he loved Molly.

He pulled her back in for the kiss. Molly eased his dressing gown off him, and helped him pull his pyjama t-shirt over his head. Molly looked at Sherlock's scar. It was looking so much better than last time she saw it. The redness and swelling had gone down, and the healing process was well under way. She knew from the look of his scar that he was fit. He was ready for her. He was ready to make love to her. They pulled each other close, feeling the warmth of the top half of each others naked bodies.

As they continued to kiss, Molly reached her hands inside Sherlock's pyjama bottom waist band, and started to ease it down over his hips. He reached down at the same time and undid her jeans button and zip. In one synchronised move they took each others trousers off,. Sherlock was completely naked, and Molly just had her pants on. Then Sherlock continued to remove Molly's pants until they were both standing together in Sherlock's room, completely naked. They'd only been like this once before, on the last night they'd had together. They both shook with emotion as they pulled each other close, feeling the warmth of each other, their desire and passion. Molly loved feeling Sherlock's desire for her, standing proud and snuggled into her stomach. She was desperate for him. She needed him. She wanted him.

They fell onto the bed, kissing each other, touching each other. Sherlock's hand was on Molly's breast, caressing it. Molly's hand massaging Sherlock's balls as they breathed heavily, grinding and moving in time with each other.

Molly took Sherlock's hand and moved it down between her legs. She took a sharp intake of breath as he started to touch her, to work her. His fingers had not forgotten what she taught him last time. Of course he'd not forgotten. He was Sherlock Holmes. He'll have filed it away in his mind palace ready for when he needed it again. And sure enough, the memory was brought back to the surface with perfect recall. He was driving her wild with desire. He knew just how to make her scream.

Molly was pulling at Sherlock's erection, listening to the wonderful grunts that he made as he worked closer to orgasm. She loved looking at him. She loved the way he shook when she found a new rhythm, or touched a part of him she'd not touched before. It was like a child finding a new toy. She was helping Sherlock to find his body, to undertake his desires, to give in to his feelings and to enjoy them.

They were both moving faster and faster now, breathlessly kissing each other.

"Sherlock, you have to make love to me know before its too late" said Molly with desperation, knowing that she was so close to tipping over the edge if he kept touching her the way he was.

In one quick move, Sherlock was on top of Molly, his strong muscular arms holding his weight up perfectly as Molly separated her legs and let him in. He touched the top of her entrance and she thought she would go wild with pleasure. She was about to make love to Sherlock Holmes. The man she had wanted for so long. The man she had loved for 5 years. The man she never thought could like her back. And here he was, almost penetrating her. The emotions were overcoming her and she started to cry

"Are you OK, Molly? Am I hurting you?"

"Of course not, I'm just so happy. I want to make love to you. I want to show you how I feel about you. I have wanted this for so long. Please. Enter me. Make love to me"

Without a word of response, Sherlock thrust his hips and slid inside Molly. They both screamed with pleasure. The feeling was incredible. Sherlock had never felt anything like it. Molly's blow job last time they were together was an incredible experience, but now here he was actually making love to her. His body entwined with hers as they rocked in unison.

Their rocking and thrusting intensified, their kissing more desperate and more passionate than it had ever been. Molly felt herself coming towards the edge and she looked into Sherlock's eyes. She knew he was in the same position. Their explosion was simultaneous, loud, breathless, erotic. Sherlock thought the force of his ejaculation might force him straight out of Molly and throw him across the room, Molly's back was arched with screaming pleasure. They held each other tightly as they came, all their needs, wants and desires demonstrated in one hug. They were safe when they were together.

Exhausted, Sherlock rolled over and lay next to Molly, looking straight into her eyes. Both of them were breathing heavily.

"That was amazing" he said when he finally had enough breath to speak.

"I think I might have actually broken something" said Molly with a big grin on her face "I can't have exploded like that and not broken something."

Sherlock laughed. He felt exactly the same. He had twinges all over his chest, especially where his wound was but he too knew it was just his body screaming at him for giving him such a work out.

They lay on the bed in each others arms for quite some time, their bodies rising and falling in time as they got their breath back and their bodies recovered from the waves of pleasure that had engulfed them both.

When they had recovered, Molly looked deeply into Sherlock's eyes "I love you"

Sherlock looked deeply in to hers and took a deep breath, ready to express his emotions to her. Ready to show how he felt about her. "Molly, I love you too."


	20. Chapter 20

Molly woke up with a start. It took her a moment to orientate herself and then she rolled over. Sherlock was fast asleep. She lay looking at him for a while. He looked so peaceful. For a moment all his worried banished. He was just Sherlock. Her Sherlock. Her lover, Sherlock. Her mind cast back to the wonderful night they had just spent together. There were not court cases to worry about. No punishments to be handed out. He was at peace with himself. Molly contemplated kissing him to wake him up, but then decided that he should sleep. Why not let him be at peace for the little time he had before everything escalated. She climbed out of bed carefully. She didn't have any clothes of her own to wear. She'd not come over intending to stay. She grabbed one of his shirts and some boxers, put them on, before slipping on his dressing gown.

She gently eased open the door so as not to wake him, and closed it quietly behind her. She headed into the kitchen and went to put the kettle on. She stopped dead in her tracks. The kettle had already boiled and had steam coming out of it. Someone had already made a drink this morning and she knew it wasn't Sherlock as she'd been cuddled up to him until just a few moments ago.

She carefully walked into the lounge and nearly jumped out of her skin. John, Mary and Lestrade were sitting at the desk and on the sofa. Once she'd composed herself, she realised that she was in a dressing gown. Her renewed relationship with Sherlock quite apparent to all present in the room.

"So, it's all back on is it?" Lestrade commented, sneering slightly.

"Yes it is if you must know" said Molly just as curtly back again "Good morning John and Mary. I hope you are well. Please excuse me, I'll just go and get a drink and seeing as he has visitors, I'll go and wake Sherlock up." With that, Molly excused herself, made two quick cups of coffee, woke Sherlock up, and quickly headed into the bathroom to freshen up.

John found himself smiling widely. Molly and Sherlock back together. Why not let them enjoy each other for a bit. He had a feeling of foreboding that they had to make the most of the short time period they were due to have together before Sherlock was punished in whatever way was deemed appropriate.

It was around 30 minutes later that Sherlock and Molly entered the lounge, washed, fully dressed, and ready for any interrogation that was about to hit them. Molly had already briefed him on the rather cool greeting she got from Lestrade. Sherlock walked up to Mary and kissed her lightly on the cheek. It was the first time he had seen John and Mary back together since their reconciliation on Christmas Day. He cordially shook John's hand, to indicate his pleasure that things were getting back on track for them both. He was pleased his master plan was working.

Lestrade wasn't quite so straight forward. Sherlock knew that if Lestrade were present, then it meant that things were moving forward relating to Magnussen. That the decision on his punishment was moving forward and it wouldn't be long before action was taken.

Lestrade didn't hold back "Sherlock, you have to tell me everything. I can't help you otherwise. I can't come to your aid unless you tell me. I have to know. Why did you shoot him? More importantly, who shot you in the first place. I know the two are linked because you were shot in his office. If you tell me everything, I can help you. Please let me help you."

John shot a sideways glance at Mary who had turned quite pale. He then looked at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled at John. A reassuring smile

"My dear Lestrade, I cannot tell you. There is so much more to this than you can ever understand. It is for me to know my motives and reasons. What I can assure you is that it was all done with logic, reasoning and thought behind it, but that doesn't change the outcome. I murdered a man. I must take my punishment." Molly's head dropped. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Will you not tell me anything?" Lestrade pleaded with him

"I cannot. Please take my word. I just cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I can do to help you, Sherlock. I hope you understand that. I know you are hiding something or someone from me. You must have your reasons. By choosing to stay silent, you make your own decision about your future. You are a great man, Sherlock Holmes." With that, Lestrade stood up and offered his hand to Sherlock. Sherlock looked Lestrade straight in the eye as he shook his hand back. Then they both simply nodded to each other as Lestrade left the flat.

The enormity of what had just happened hit Molly like a bolt of lightening. The emotions began to overtake her "So you're just going to sit back and let it happen. You're not going to defend yourself at all? You're just going to stay quiet? John? Mary? Please help. Please make him do something."

Sherlock walked over to Molly and put his hand on her shoulder "Molly, I shot him. Regardless of how or who, or why or where or what, the bottom line is I shot him."

"But Mary shot you" she said desperately shooting a look at Mary. Mary looked at Molly in total shock. She had no idea Molly knew.

Sherlock nodded. "She didn't kill me though, did she, and I have not chosen to press charges. The two are totally different. There is nothing I can do to defend myself. If I were put in front of a court of law, I would have no option but to plead guilty. That is the truth and I must live with it and the consequences of my actions."

There was nothing more that Molly could say.

It was Mary's voice that they heard next "How long have you known, Molly?"

"Since a few days after Sherlock took ill for a second time. I overheard a conversation between John and Sherlock, and I made them both tell me. I don't know all of the background but I know quite a bit. It did mean I was able to keep a closer eye on John than I would have done if I hadn't known, and it did help to explain some things. Mary, I don't judge you for what you've done. I can't begin to understand it either though. What I do know is right now I'm finding it all really hard. This is going to cost the man I love his freedom. And that's a hard pill to swallow."

Mary looked at the ground. She didn't know what to say.

Sherlock broke the ice "Well, this is going to be one of my last days with you all. Lets forget about all of this and do something else. As I'm under house arrest, I can't go out, so anyone want to join me in an experiment? I've got some interesting mould samples in the cupboard."

They all laughed together simultaneously. Yes, that sounded great fun, and very Sherlock. Within no time, they'd set about exploring Sherlock's mould cupboard, delegating jobs to each other, setting up note pads to record their findings and busying themselves for the rest of the morning. They all had to admit, it was actually quite a fun way to pass the time, and they began to easily understand how Sherlock could so easily lose himself for days on end in similar activities.

As early afternoon approached, Molly had to make her apologies. She had a shift staring at 2pm at the morgue and she had to pop home to change first. John and Mary made themselves scarce by popping to see Mrs Hudson to give them a little privacy.

Sherlock took Molly in her arms. He kissed her deeply and fondly. "What I said last night, I meant Molly. I have never encountered emotions like these before. What emotions I have had, I have been able to surpress. But when I am with you, I am totally unable to do that. You overwhelm me. You are my very being. My thoughts are constantly of you. I love you."

Molly put her finger to his lips "And I meant what I said last night as well. I love you too, Sherlock Holmes."

Molly glanced at her watch. "I really do have to go. I'll catch you tomorrow." And with that, she kissed him quickly on the cheek and ran down the stairs out of the flat, calling bye to John, Mary and Mrs Hudson as she went.

John and Mary headed back up the stairs once Molly had gone. They found a pensive looking Sherlock sitting in his chair.

"Penny for your thoughts" said John, sitting down opposite him in his chair while Mary went to make a drink.

"Time is short lived, John. Treasure each moment you have. For I know what lies ahead for me. I shall imagine last night was like a year, and time spent with her today like a year too. Then I have been blessed with two years with her. That's how I shall deal with it."

"That's very deep."

"But I fear, very true, John."

John became aware of the footsteps on the stairs. And before they realised it, Mycroft Holmes, Lestrade and two other gentlemen dressed in suits with ear pieces, stood in the doorway "Sherlock, I have come to get you. Please go and get yourself dressed into suitable attire. It is time."


	21. Chapter 21

John stood with his mouth open. How on earth could Sherlock have known they would come for him so soon. Mary was leaning on the counter. She looked remarkably cool and collected. John looked at her, knowing that sometimes he didn't know Mary at all. Of course she would react like that. She was an ex-agent. An assassin. She knew how these things worked. It would be of no surprise to her at all.

Sherlock was soon back from his bedroom. He had obviously planned what he as going to do, going to wear, going to take to wherever he was going.

Mycroft beckoned him to sit down. Sherlock politely declined but simply asked "Where am I going?"

"To Eastern Europe. There is some undercover work that we need you to undertake. It should take no more than 6 months."

Sherlock simply nodded. He knew what Mycroft meant. John didn't "And what happens after 6 months?"

Sherlock simply shrugged his shoulders in reply.

Sherlock turned to John and Mary, nodded is head and walked out of the flat. He was immediately followed by Mycroft and Lestrade. Half way down the stairs he turned to Mycroft

"I know it is not usual, but I would like one final request if I may."

"Tell me and I will see what I can do."

The black car pulled up at St Barts. Mycroft got out followed by Sherlock. Sherlock turned to Mycroft "Please, you have my word I will be straight back. There is something I need to do."

Mycroft nodded "You have 30 minutes"

Sherlock headed in to St Barts. As soon as he was out of eyesight of Mycroft, he broke into a run. There was someone he needed to see.

Molly was in the lab, leaning over a microscope. She was taken aback at Sherlock's sudden arrival.

"What on earth are you doing here? You're under house arrest. What are you doing? I'm coming to see you later. Why are you risking everything coming out here to see me."

"Molly, I have to talk to you."

Molly's heart sank. Surely he wasn't going to break up with her for a second time? No, he couldn't do that to her again. Please god, no.

"Molly, I have to go away. Well, I'm being sent away. I have no idea how long I will be gone. I may be gone quite some time." He swallowed hard, putting the emotion behind him. He took a deep breath. He went down on one knee "Molly Hooper, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Molly had to do a double take. Sherlock Holmes was proposing? To her? He really was proposing to her? But he was going away. Why? Where was he going? How long was he going for? Why was he leaving her? Her brain was whizzing. A mixture of happiness, excitement, shock, sadness, longing. Then her answer came out

"Yes, Sherlock, of course I'll marry you."

Sherlock put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring. A beautiful, antique ring. "It was my grandmothers. I want you to have it" He helped her to put it onto her finger. It was beautiful. So simple, so elegant. It was perfect. He was perfect. He was her man and he loved her.

She gently helped him to his feet and the kissed. They held each other close, and they kissed, deeply, lovingly, like they might never see each other again. Their arms roaming all over each others bodies, their lips exploring each other. Their love for each other coming out as they tried to put every ounce of emotion they could muster into that final kiss. The one kiss they both needed to hold on to. To remember.

They were both unaware the shadow at the window moved gently out of sight. He had no idea. He hadn't realised. He didn't understand that Sherlock felt that way about Molly. He had no idea his brother was in love.

An alarm brought them both back to their senses. Sherlock looked deeply into Molly's eyes "I have to go."

Molly nodded and walked away. She could not watch him go. He could not look back. She sat at her microscope, tears flowing down her cheeks as she looked at the most beautiful ring Sherlock had just given her.

Sherlock walked through the door and closed it quietly. He stood with his back to the door. His emotions overtook him. He could not help himself. It was just too much.

He felt an arm on his shoulder which made him jump. It was Mycroft. Sherlock tried to pull his emotions together, but Mycroft pulled him in closely for a hug. Sherlock knew that was his permission to let go. To allow the emotions to over take him. He had never let Mycroft in before. There was an unwritten rule between the Holmes brothers. They stayed distant from each other. They never let on how much they cared about each other. But for the first time, Mycroft showed Sherlock how much he cared. Like a big brother should care for a little brother as he hurt.

It was a few moments before Sherlock pulled away, composing himself. Mycroft simply looked at him. "I had no idea you felt that way about Miss Hooper"

"Please don't lecture me about how I've got it wrong. How I've made a human error."

"I am not going to lecture you, Sherlock. Contrary to popular opinion, I have myself at times felt emotion. And I understand. I did not appreciate how strongly you felt about her. I knew you were close and had spent some time together but it goes much deeper than that. You love her. That is not a failure."

They started their walk back to the car. Before they turned the final corner to rejoin Lestrade and the others Mycroft stopped and turned to Sherlock. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I truly am. I am sorry your banishment will end your relationship. Had I known..."

"Please Mycroft. Lets get on with it." and with that he strode up to the black car and got in.


	22. Chapter 22

It wasn't a big aircraft. It didn't need to be. He was the only one who was going to be travelling on it.

The journey from St Barts had been made in silence. Sherlock was lost in his own world of thought. Of pain. Of sorrow. Emotions he fought hard to control the whole way. Mycroft had flicked several glances over to him during the journey. How had he not realised? How had he, Mycroft Holmes, not spotted his brother had changed. Had grown up. Had fallen in love, completely, utterly and hopelessly? Yes, he had known that they were close, that Molly had been Sherlock's rock during his illness, and she had been staying at his flat. But love? Always a human error in both of their opinions. Maybe not in both of their opinions any more.

He looked again at Sherlock. The pain and hurt in his eyes and his whole demeanour confirmed to Mycroft that he had been correct all along. Love was a human error. It only led to pain, hurt and sorrow. Sherlock was the one dealing with the consequences of his emotional failings now. But thinking all of that, Mycroft also felt for his brother. A man who had been through so much. Helped so many and now was in such pain. Yes, killing Magnussen was wrong and it should not have happened, but there were a great many people relieved and even pleased that Magnussen had gone. Again, in his way, Sherlock had helped so many.

The car pulled up at the aircraft steps. Sherlock was surprised to see John and Mary standing there. He had presumed that he would not get to see John, would not get to say all the things he had been meaning to say for so long.

Mary greeted Sherlock first. An awkward hug was exchanged, where she promised to look after John. Sherlock's eyes could not greet hers. He knew he had taken the decision to pull the trigger, but it was she who had made him. She was John's pressure point and so she had to be protected. A thought crossed his mind that this was all her fault. That it was her fault he was losing Molly. But he pushed it aside. 'Of course its not her fault. You did this' he thought to himself as she walked away.

Saying goodbye to John would not be quite so easy. John. His dear, dear friend. His best friend. He was John's best friend. He still couldn't get over that. He actually had a best friend. Back then, when he was all alone, someone had actually liked him enough to call him a friend, to become his flat mate, and then for a while to become the most important person in his life. John, who had taught him how to have friends, how to laugh, how to cry, and most importantly the value of companionship. It was John who had encouraged him to explore his feelings about Molly. It was John who had shown him that love was not a human error, and who had supported him the whole way through. John, up until very recently, his only pressure point.

Sherlock and John took a short walk away from the aeroplane. Sherlock just wanted 5 minutes with John. He had so very much to say. So much that was bursting out inside him, but he just didn't know how to say it. He so wanted to let all the feelings he had suppressed for so long about John out. He wanted to tell him how grateful he was. How John had taught him so much, had meant so much to him, had been his one and only true friend. He wanted to say how much he had enjoyed working with him, drinking with him, sharing a flat with him, getting mad at him. But none of it would come out. He just didn't know how to express it.

So in the end he just held his hand out to John and they shook each other firmly by the hand

"To the very best of times, John"

Sherlock climbed the steps into the plane, took off his coat and sat down. He could not sit on the same side of the plane that John, Mary and Mycroft were standing on. It was too much to bear. So he sat down so they could not see him.

The doors closed, and he fastened his seat belt. There were no formalities on the plane. Everyone knew why this trip was happening. A brilliant man was being banished from the country and people he loved the most due to the most hideous of crimes. He had committed murder.

The plan began its taxi down the runway. Sherlock's eyes started to stream. He did not stop them. He did not try to hide his tears. He put his hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small photograph. He looked at it for a while through his tears. The one thing he had allowed himself to bring with him. The usually unsentimental Sherlock allowing himself one moment of sentiment.

It was a photograph of Molly. His Molly. In her lab coat, in the morgue at St Barts. In the place where he had fallen in love with her. In the place where he wanted to remember her, wearing the clothes he wanted to remember her wearing, her hair pulled back into a pony tail in just the way he wanted to remember her hair. She was smiling, smiling at him, with her eyes shining.

He slipped the photograph away in his pocket. He didn't plan to look at it again. She was there with him and he closed his eyes. The plane began to speed up, gaining momentum as it powered along the runway. Sherlock took a deep breath. This was it. He wasn't coming home again.

The plane climbed steeply and after a short while flattened out. Sherlock stared out of the window, taking in the view of London for one last time.

He became conscious of a person standing behind him. "Excuse me Mr Holmes, its your brother" the voice said, handing him a telephone.

"Yes Mycroft" Sherlock said.

The conversation was not a long one. He handed the phone back to the steward, just as the pilot announced they were all to prepare for landing. Landing back at the same airport they had left less than 10 minutes earlier.

As Sherlock climbed down the steps of the plane, Mycroft greeted him. "Well?"

"I saw his body. I saw him die. As of yet I have no further explanation for you. I will need to get more information."

"But I saw you die. I saw your body. We even had a death certificate. But here you are standing next to me" John said all in one breath. He was white and pale.

"Let me see the screen" Sherlock demanded

Mycroft led him over to the Jaguar and opened the door. It was there for all to see, clearly on the screen of the satellite navigation, still speaking the same words over again in Moriarty's own distinctive Irish Accent "Did you miss me?"


	23. Chapter 23

Molly's mind was in a whirl. He hadn't gone. They hadn't sent him away. He was still in the UK. But at the same time, how on earth was Moriarty back? He was dead. She knew he was dead. So how on earth was he back? She knew that Sherlock had been alive all along - she'd been part of the team that had kept him alive after all. But not Moriarty. And was Sherlock going to be free, or was he going to be kept somewhere, perhaps in a safe house until all of this was solved, before they really did send him away. Would she get to see him again? She sat down, closed her eyes and put her head in her hands to help stop the pounding that had just started across her whole head.

Sherlock's mind was in a whirl. His usually so controlled thought process was all over the place. He had not prepared himself for this change of plan. His next few days, even weeks were mapped out in his head. He knew where he was going, and the outline of the task ahead. This change was not what was expected. How could Moriarty be alive? He had seen him kill himself. He had even spent 2 years undoing Moriarty's network. So how was he back? Where was he going? Back to 221b? To a safe house? If it was a safe house, would he get to see Molly? Would they send him away again once the Moriarty case was solved? He sat down, closed his eyes and put his head in his hands to help stop the pounding that had just started across his whole head.

The car drove the same route it had taken on the way to the airport with one noteable exception. As it passed St Barts, it didn't stop. Sherlock smiled to himself. He guessed by now that Molly probably knew what had happened. John would almost certainly have texted her straight away to tell her. She'd have seen it all on her computer screen anyway.

"I text Miss Hooper on your behalf to tell her what had happened" Mycroft mentioned in passing as they drove past St Barts "I thought she might want to know."

Sherlock didn't reply. He just smiled to himself. For all Mycroft's claims that emotion was a human failing, he wasn't doing a lot to prove it. He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, to think about Molly. To think about them together. To remember last night. To remember the feeling of holding her close.

His mind snapped back into the present. Mycroft was passing his phone to Sherlock. Sherlock read the email that was on the screen. It was a memo from MI5, confirming the source of the video of Moriarty had been in central London, but there was no current confirmation of a sighting of Moriarty himself.

"The decision has been taken to return you to 221B for the time being. We had considered a safe house, but if Moriarty is indeed back, then it is likely that he will have done his homework on where we would take you anyway. He has not stated his intent to us and so there is no reason to not return you back to your own home. You will remain under house arrest until a more formal course of action is planned. However, we will allow you to leave the flat as you feel you need, accompanied by a person of our choosing. We have received full security clearance on a certain John Watson, so if you need to go out, John can be your escort for the time being. Under the terms of your arrest, you must check in to either myself, Lestrade or one of the local police stations twice a day and report your whereabouts and what you are doing. Is that understood, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded, his mind already wandering to how he was going to track down what was going on. He had taken out Moriarty's network piece by piece. How could they have reformed?

Mrs Hudson was waiting on the steps of 221B. They watched as Mycroft spoke to the police officer positioned on the front door step, and then as he drove away. She hugged Sherlock and then smiled. "I think you might want to get upstairs."

Sherlock instantly knew what would be waiting for him upstairs. He ran up the stair case two at a time, desperate to get to the top. He flung open the front door of the flat, and there she stood, looking just as he had left her less than 2 hours previously but without her lab coat.

She looked at Sherlock and burst out crying. She ran into his arms and buried her head in his chest. They held each other so tightly and after a few moments, Sherlock bent his head down to meet Molly's as they kissed. Molly's tears rolled down her cheeks. She thought he had gone for ever. She thought she had lost him. She had prepared herself for the pain of loss, only for it to turn back into the pleasure of holding him.

Through the tears, Molly looked up at him "I have to ask, do you still mean it? Do you still want to marry me now you're not going to be immediately sent away"

"Of course I do. There is nothing I want more. I'd marry you today if I could." Sherlock paused. He was so close to adding the words 'lets just do it' but he stopped himself.

Molly took Sherlock's hand and led him to his bedroom. They locked the door, and moved closer together. Within a moment, Molly was unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt, and he was pulling her top over her head. Their lips were locked together in a passionate embrace, their naked top halves pressed firmly together, feeling each other's body warmth, something they thought they would not be able to do again.

Molly's hands wandered down to Sherlock's trousers and she was slipping her hand in, unbuttoning them as they heard voices in the flat. It was Mycroft and Lestrade calling out for Sherlock. Molly and Sherlock giggled to each other, glad they had locked the door. They heard Mrs Hudson's quickly footsteps follow them up

"I was trying to tell you, but you didn't listen. Molly is here."

Lestrade and Mycroft's voices fell silent, when they realised what Mrs Hudson had said. Sherlock and Molly heard Mycrofts voice first

"Sherlock, open your bedroom door. I don't care what you and Miss Hooper are doing in there, I need to talk to you." Molly and Sherlock dissolved into a heap of giggles when Sherlock's response was to pull Molly's trousers down and put his hand inside her pants.

"Mycroft, for goodness sake, they've only just got each other back. Give them 5 minutes space" Lestrade said raising his voice so Sherlock and Molly could hear through the door. "Lets go and grab a coffee next door and we can talk. Sherlock can join us in a bit" The footsteps came closer to Sherlock's door. "Sherlock, we'll be back in about an hour."

It was obvious from the following lowered voices followed by the very loud "Honestly" from Mycroft, that it had taken some persuasion to get Mycroft to agree.

Mrs Hudson came to Sherlock's bedroom door and whispered "I've bought you two some time, but do me a favour and don't be long so you don't upset them too much." She hurried back down stairs.

Sherlock returned his focus to Molly, his eyes gazing into hers. She looked deeply back into his. They were now both completely naked, lying together on Sherlock's bed. Sherlock rolled over to be on top of Molly, their love making that of a couple who have just declared their love to each other, but who had thought that a long, possibly permanent period of separation lay between them. It was desperate, strong and passionate.

As they lay together exhausted afterwards, Molly snuggled into Sherlock's shoulder and they lay holding each other, feeling the warmth from each other.

"I don't want to lose you again" Molly finally admitted after a period of long silence. "I'm not sure how I would cope with it again."

Sherlock stayed silent for a while before responding "I feel the same. I don't know what lies ahead over the next few months but I am pretty sure that I'll be staying around. Its going to be a dangerous, tough time. I'm sure Moriarty will have done this properly. You need to be prepared to be put in danger Molly. I don't want you to get hurt but I am not prepared to leave you to keep you safe. I can't do that again. I want you to be by my side, as my wife in due course, and we will face this together, with John and Mary. Are you prepared for that, Molly?"

Molly rolled over and looked straight into his eyes. "Sherlock, I would follow you to the end of the earth. Of course I am prepared for it. I love you with all my heart, and I know you love me." She smiled at him "After all, back when you were critically ill in hospital, when you were hooked up to all the monitors,your pulse said it all".

Thank you so much for reading my version of Sherlock and Molly's story. I do have some plans for a sequel. Please let me know if you'd like me to write it or if you've enjoyed the story by leaving a review. Thank you x


End file.
